Improbable Dreams
by Bloody Phantom
Summary: Carlynda, a runaway countess, finds herself getting rescued one night by a mysterious man. To repay his kindness, she gifts him with the deed to the one thing he always wanted to own. A blooming relationship takes hold between the two, but her past is threatening to destroy the relationship she has with the man who would not step out of the shadows.
1. Rescue

**Improbable Dreams**

A young lady early to mid-twenty years old stood in the bathroom looking at her tearstained face in the mirror. Tears ran down her pastel cheeks. Dark brown eyes, messy and tangled brown hair, and pale skin. Her nose appeared red from her snuffles.

Life would have been a whole lot easier if she hadn't run away, but how could she have stayed? Her father was going to marry her off to a murderer. Yes, there was no proof to put in him jail…or he paid the guard, but everyone knew he killed his late wife. How could her father do something like this to her? Yes, the man had money, but was that really worth risking his daughter's life?

Carlynda McBeth, formally known as Countess Claudette Bellamont, quickly wiped away her tears as she heard someone entered to the washroom. She quickly left the washroom, knowing it wasn't the best place for privacy. She ignored the lusty stares of the men looking for a woman to warm their beds for the night as she walked down the stairs. She quickly left the brothel house through the front door. The owner, an overly large lady with no manners, called out her name, but she was also ignored.

Carlynda ran behind the brothel house for the privacy she sought. She leaned against the back of the building and slid to the ground, ignoring the murky smell of the garbage that was thrown out the window everyday around six in the evening. She was already dirty, why bother worrying about getting anymore dirty? She used to never be dirty.

Her new life since she ran away had been hard. She quickly used up all money she had brought with her and she didn't know how to do any jobs, since she didn't have to worry about them when she was at home. With no money and no job, she had no choice but listen to a young lady telling her about the 'perfect job' that would bring in a lot of money. It sounded very pleasing and the young lady said it was easy to get hired, but Carlynda didn't really know about life as a lady of the night. She had never heard about them in the shelter of her mansion. She never heard of them until she became one. This was only her third night doing it and she couldn't stand it. She was not raised to defile herself so. She did not grow up thinking such thing was necessary and right. She couldn't do this any longer.

Carlynda felt something wet on her cheeks. She reached up and wasn't all that surprise to know she had been crying again. She coiled up into a ball, her arms wrapped around her knees hugging them to her body. She willingly let herself cry into her knees. She was delirious leaving home. Did she seriously think life away from home was going to be adventurous and easy? Truthfully, she did. She read too many romance novel, too many fairy tales.

She felt so alone, by herself in this strange world. No one was there to help her. Ever since she ran away she had to do everything by herself, there was never somebody there to help her. Even at the brothel. She got hired, told that she worked night and that was it. It was up to her to get the money from the men.

Carlynda shook her head. She had to get out of here. She couldn't take it any longer. This life of hers was too much for her to handle. How was she going free herself?

She gasped for breath, trying to breath through her tears. She wanted to go to someone for help. She was completely by herself, no one to talk too and no one to go to for help. It felt like the world was caving in on her.

Her shoulders felt so heavy from the weight of her stressful, lonely life. She hadn't smiled in days and she had used her body in ways that was looked down upon in the society she was raised in. Never in her life had she ever even thought of using herself in such a way. She was being used, used to pleasure a man. What honor was in that?

She couldn't stay or she'd die. Carylnda sat up and slowly left the alley. Her mind was fogged up with sorrow and loneliness. She didn't know where she was going or how she would get there. All she knew was she had to get out. She wanted to go home, but she knew she couldn't.

It was dark and fog had drifted in. Her heels clicked on the stone side walk. The clicking echoed around the empty street, reminding her of the emptiness in her heart. Carylnda stumbled to walk right, no doubt she looked drunk, but she couldn't think straight much less walk straight.

Suddenly, she heard something behind her. Heavy footsteps echoed behind her in rhythm with her own steps. It belonged to a man. That was easy to tell from the heaviness of the steps.

Carylnda stopped walking, ears focused on the footsteps behind her. To her outmost horror, they stopped when she stopped. She felt like crying again. Her life had gotten so dreadful and it was getting worst and worst by the second. She didn't know how to fight. She didn't grow up like that. She wasn't raised to fight.

She started walking again, gasping for breath in terror when the footsteps behind her began again. She walked faster, the man behind her matching her pace. She walked even faster. Soon she was running; the man behind her started running after her. Her breath grew short with horror. She started chocking on her breath with horror. She was blinded with terror. She couldn't see where she was going.

"Leave me alone!" she yelled her voice hoarse because she was crying. The man behind her didn't respond.

Suddenly, she saw something ahead, a big structure that stood over the foggy streets of Paris. Her mind, filled with the need to live, cleared from the misery she was stuck in for weeks. She made her way towards the building, barely noting the broken windows and the rusty bronze busts columns near the front door.

Before she could enter the building, the man grabbed her arm and pulled her back. Her back rammed into his chest. She struggled for freedom, but he only held on tighter. His breath felt hot on her ear. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. She slumped forward in tears, to weak in despair to fight any longer. "Ya don't wanna go in there, pretta," the man whispered huskily into her ear. "It's full 'f ghosts an' danger."

"Please," she begged pathetically. Her voice choked with tears.

"I saw ya steppin' out of thee brothel. Ya workin' t'night, pretta? I'll pleasure ya reel good. I'll even do it fur free." One hand reached up and roughly squeezed her breast.

She winced in pain and fear. So far, she had managed to avoid getting raped, but she knew her avoidance was coming to an end. This man was about to rape her and no one was around to help her.

Suddenly, when all hope seemed lost, there was a quiet, beautiful voice near her left ear. " _Get inside. I cannot help you out there_." It was but only a whisper, but it gave her hope and strength. This new found strength allowed her to elbow her assailant in the gut. The sudden pain momentarily distracted him and his hold loosened as he let out a groan.

With his hold on her now loose, she was able to easily escape and ran toward the door of the building. However, the man recovered quickly and ran after her. "No, ya don't, pretta!"

To her horror, the door of the building was rusted shut. She cried out in fear, but luck seemed to be on her side. In the man's need to claim her, he ran faster than he should have and he rammed into her and they hit the door hard. His momentum was what the door needed. It banged opened and they both fell in. She was crushed under his weight.

The man chuckled as he straddled her. "Prefect," he purred. Carlynda started to pound on his chest with her fist and struggled underneath him. He grabbed her arms and pulled them above her head and held them there with one hand. His other hand grabbed her breast again. He started to rub himself against her and she screamed, hoping someone would help her.

Suddenly, there was a whisper in the air and the man froze above her. The whisper turned into two and then three and then many. The whispers of the voices were all around them, getting louder and louder. Carlynda couldn't make out what they were saying. The louder they got, the more powerful they became. Then, suddenly, it stopped, leaving a noticeable silence in the air. Then, there was a clear, powerful voice that came from all around them.

" _Unhand the young lady right now, monsieur and get out! You are not welcome here_!" It was the voice that had whispered to her outside, but it was deeper and stronger than before. It almost made the building shake.

" _Not welcome…not welcome…not welcome…_ " The whispers started again, repeating the same two words over and over again.

The man above her shook with fear and Carlynda could not blame him. She, herself, was rather fearful, even though the mysterious voice was helping her. The first person to truly help her since leaving home. She was fearful what this voice would want in return for helping…

The man quickly got up and ran faster then she thought possible out of the building. The door slammed shut behind him, enclosing her in darkness. As soon as the door had close, the whispers stopped. Once again, there was a stillness in the air.

She sat up fearfully and looked around, trying to find some sort of light. Her body shook in fear of, not only the voice and its whispers, but of what could have happened to her if they weren't there to help. "Tha…thank you…" Her voice shook slightly as she whispered her gratitude. Her next question was caught in her throat. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer. How would she ask him what he wanted in return?

She heard footsteps coming towards her from somewhere beside her. She crawled away in fear and gasped.

The footsteps suddenly stopped. She could sense someone there, staring down at her. "You have nothing more to fear, mademoiselle. I will not harm you." It was the voice again, deep and beautiful. It spoke so honestly and eagerly, like he couldn't wait for her to leave.

Carlynda ignored the tone and didn't dare respond. She pulled her knees to her and tightly hugged them to her chest. She heard the rustle of clothes from the man with the voice.

"He's gone, mademoiselle." The voice was closer and it did not take a genius to realize he had knelt down to her level. "I will not harm you," he repeated. "If you would just follow me, I will lead you to a side entrance."

His words would have been calming, if she knew where to go once leaving the building…if she knew what he would do to her before they get to the side entrance.

She had no home. She had nowhere to go. She was determined not to go back to the brothel, but she couldn't go back to her parents either. She was tinted and used. She was no longer clean for marriage. They would not accept her back if they knew and, if she kept it a secret from them, they would marry her off to Monsieur L'Angley, the man that murdered his previous wife, and be done with her. They would have nothing to do with her because of the disappointment and embarrassment she caused them for running off. She would not have been surprised if her father had disowned her because she had left.

"Reach out your hand, mademoiselle, and I will take it and led you to safety. I give you my word," the man said gently.

Carlynda did not reach out. Instead, she held onto her knees tighter. "What's safe out there, monsieur?" she whispered into her knees.

There was a silence as if not even he could answer her. "Surely your home is where you are most safe?" he finally asked.

"What home?" she whispered more to herself then to him. "I have no home. I'm alone." She buried her head into her knees. "So alone." She wept.

The man let her weep there for a moment before standing. "Do you not have any means of getting by, mademoiselle?" She shook her head and hugged her knees closer to her, if it was even possible.

To her disappointment, she sensed the man's presence leaving her. She wanted to call out for him to not leave her, but the words would not escape her. Soon after, she was alone, literally. Despite her fear of him, she was more afraid of being alone. He had, at least, been kind to her so far. Far better to be with him then some drunken man out on the street. "Monsieur?" she called out. Her voice echoed in the empty hall, making her feel even more abandoned and alone. She slumped in defeat. She was feeling the despair eating away at her. She was lost with nowhere to go or anyone to turn too. She was very, very much alone.

She did not know just how long she sat there, frozen and unresponsive. She seemed to have just given up on life, wishing to die right there. Might as well die here then out there.

"Mademoiselle?"

She jumped, suddenly aware of someone kneeling close to her. It was the man from before, the one who rescued her, the one with the voice. "M—Monsieur?"

"I'm here, mademoiselle."

She couldn't believe the amount of relief that washed over her at the sound of his voice saying he was there.

"Hold out your hand."

Her head snapped to where the sound of his voice came from, confused. She hesitated. Was this when he lead her to some inn or his bedroom to tell her his price for helping her?

"Mademoiselle, I won't hurt you. You have my word," the man said.

She hesitated a moment longer before she slowly reached out. Her hand was outstretched in the open air, until something cool and leathery touched her. She jerked in surprise and the leathery touch grasped her hand firmly to prevent her from moving it away. "M—Monsieur, is that you?" she asked, needing to make sure it was her rescuer and not a fiend.

"Yes."

She immediately relaxed, now feeling the hand beneath the leathery exterior. He must be wearing some custom made leather gloves, she realized. His touch was so smooth and careful, like he was afraid of breaking her or scaring her. He gently turned her hand over so her palm was facing up and placed a heavy round bag into it. He closed the palm of her hand over the bag with his other hand and held it there. She felt his long, thin fingers gently and firmly tighten her hold over the bag. "Perhaps with this, mademoiselle, you will be able to start renew." He stood up, pulling her with him. "I'll lead you to the side exit." He let go of the hand with the bag and took her empty hand. She could do nothing but let him guide her.

Unable to see anything in front of her, she blindly allowed him to guide her as she turned her attention to the bag in her hand. She used her fingers to assess it. It felt like there were many round and hard objects inside, like coins. The objects clinked together as she moved the bag around with her fingers.

She looked back up when they stopped. She stiffened, wondered if he would tell her what she owed him. There was a creaking sound like something was moving on a rusty hinge. A sudden light blinded her. "Ah," she gasped when the light hit her eyes and quickly turned away.

"I apologize, mademoiselle. I did not realize they had that street lamp lit. I shall leave you now."

She did not know why she did it, maybe it was the thought of being left alone again, but he as said he was leaving; she quickly grabbed on his arm in a tight grip and froze. She did not want him to leave her. He had given her the first sense of safety since she left home. He was also the first one to show her any kindness and he hadn't asked for anything in return, not yet anyway.

"Mademoiselle, it's time for you to go. I gave you enough money to get by for a while. Find work or find a husband, then you should not worry about running out of money." He sounded annoyed, but Carlynda did not let that sway her.

"Work?" she questioned. All her life she was told that proper ladies did not work. Men were the ones with a job. A woman's job was to be the perfect wife and mother. "I am not good at any labor, monsieur." She looked up, eyes having had adjusted to the lamp light outside, but she still couldn't see him. All she could see was his dark silhouette figure hiding in the shadows. She could tell he was tall and broad and he must have been wearing dark colors.

"Apply for a governess job, mademoiselle. There are some noble families nearby that might hire you to teach their children. If you know how to teach that is. That should not be too difficult, I can imagine."

She looked down and shook her head. "I cannot, monsieur," she responded sadly. She couldn't be seen by any noble families. One of them might recognize her and take her to her father.

She heard the man sigh, but she couldn't decipher if the sigh was an annoyed sigh or an indecisive sigh. She suddenly realized what she was doing, making her rescuer come up with all the solutions. She mental cringed. She was just so used to having somebody else make the decisions. She didn't mean to be so…so…selfish! She quickly let go the man's arm. "I apologize, monsieur. I did not mean to impose for so long or to be so selfish. I thank you for your help and…" She held out the bag of francs to him. "…here. I can't take this, monsieur. It's your money. You earned it. I will…will try to get by. I did not mean to take advantage of your kindness, monsieur. I should not have been so willing to take your money. I have nothing to offer in return, unless…" she shakily reached up to touch the collar of her dress.

The man did not take the bag from her. Instead, he stared intensely at her. She could feel his stare burn within her. Finally, he reached out and she flinched, thinking he was going to touch her. Her flinched made him pause, but he continued to reach out, more slowly, cautiously, this time. She could see his hand now. It was covered by a black leather glove that fitted tightly around his hand like a second skin; custom made, as she thought before. That showed wealth. It made her wonder who he was and why he would be in an abandoned building at this time of night. He gently closed her hand around the bag again.

"I don't want anything in return, but your silence. Keep the money. You did not suggest in any way to give you money, mademoiselle. I gave it to you in my own freewill. You need it. I did not want you to argue with me. With this money, you may buy a home and restart your life."

"Buy a home? Monsieur, how much francs did you hand me?" she asked astonished. Surely, he wasn't wealthy enough to just throw money around to a total stranger.

"There is just over two thousand francs."

"Two thousand?! Oh, no, monsieur! I couldn't possibly take that much from you!" she said shaking her head. "That's too much! I feel like I am stealing from you and I can't possibly take it without doing something in return."

"It's your money now. You needn't repay me. It's the least I could do for all I have done in the world." Before she could reply he said, "If you wait here, I'll be back momentarily." Still shock, all Carlynda could do was nod absentmindedly.

She looked up just as he disappeared from sight. It seemed like he was a part of the shadows, as if it swallowed him whole. "Monsieur?" There was no response. All she could do was wait there. She glanced outside at the open door. There wasn't much to see. There was a street with lit street lamps and another building across that street. Some sort of business building that was closed for the night. There wasn't another soul around. Fog was drifting in slowly. It was creepy and she shivered nervously. Without the man to keep her safe, she felt vulnerable. She did not feel safe in the outside world anymore, not in the dark. She hugged herself fearfully.

Movement across from her drew her gaze away from the open door. She sighed in relief when she recognized the tall dark figure hiding in the shadows. He shifted and the light outside reflected off something white on his face, but she didn't have time to figure out what it was. He reached out and handed her a piece of paper.

"On it is an address of a woman who may help you. Just tell her I sent you. She will know who you are talking about."

Carlynda took the paper and glanced at it. She couldn't read it in the dark, but she could just see the childish handwriting written in dark ink. "Thank you, monsieur, for everything." She glanced up and found herself talking to the shadows. The man was gone.

Saddened, she left the building, hoping someday she may pay him back for all that he had done for her.

* * *

Carlynda shifted nervously on the couch. She glanced at the stern older woman before her with anticipation. The older woman was standing with a cane in her hand. "Who did you say sent you to me for help?"

"I don't know his name, Madame. But he said you would know who I am talking about. He was in that abandon building in the middle of Pairs. He was tall and he wore custom leather gloves." she explained. "He had the most beautiful voice," she said, almost dreamily. She shook her head. "I apologize, Madame. I cannot tell you much."

The woman placed a hand over her heart and slowly sat down. She looked stunned. "He's alive?" she whispered to herself. She shook herself out of her surprised thoughts.

"Will you be able to help me?" Carlynda asked.

She glanced at her with a stern look. "Yes."

Carlynda smiled in relief. "Thank you, Madame." She gave her appreciation meekly. She leaned forward. "Madame Giry, I want to pay him back for his kindness, but…" She shook his head. "…I don't know him." She gave the older woman an uncomfortable look.

Madame Giry leaned back and nodded with a satisfying look. "He is a composer and musician. A man of beauty and art. He is a sophisticated man, but lonely and isolated. He has a nasty temper and a certain child-like need for company."

Carlynda stored the information in her mind, briefly wondering if she ever heard of him before or, at least, heard his work. Was he someone famous? "I want to give him something meaningful, Madame. What does he want? What would be a thoughtful gift to give him? What is something he wants but can't seem to get himself?" she asked, wanting the gift to be special and sentimental to him. She owned him so much. He saved her life and gave her means to get back on her feet.

Madame Giry gave her a look. "The thing about him is, he always finds some way to get what he wants. Nothing is unreachable to him. And the things he wants, but cannot get are usually something no one can easily give him."

Carlynda sighed disappointedly and turned away.

"However…" She glanced up with hope when Madame Giry continued. "…there is one thing you can do for him that would do more than pay him back, but it will take time and a lot of money to get. You'll have to start right away and build up money and resources."

Carlynda leaned forward excitedly. "I'll do anything, Madame."

"He already considers it his, but, legally, it is not. He has a certain fondness for the Opera House."

* * *

 **Not too proud of the first chapter, but it gets the point across.  
**

 **Please Review**


	2. Years Later

**Chapter 2**

Two and a Half Years Later:

Carlynda stepped out of the carriage and tilted her head upwards to see the building over the brim of her hat. The sun blinded her and she quickly brought up a gloved hand to her brow to block its heated rays. It looked different then she remembered, but, then again, she wasn't paying attention to the structure and it was quite dark.

"Mademoiselle Mcbeth!"

Carlynda turned to the side and saw a short, portly man with a top hat and a cane coming towards her. He kept his gaze fixed on her, as if trying to avoid looking at the Opera House.

"Monsieur Debree," she greeted cheerfully. "Did you bring all the paperwork?" she asked as she glanced at the abandoned structure.

M. Debree held up a folder. "Umm, yes I did, mademoiselle. Umm, I feel like I should warn you again. This place…" He shook his head as he finally gave it a glance, an anxious glance. "No one has been able to fix it up and make use of it since the fire four years ago. It's haunted. I hadn't believed the tales until after I bought it."

She smiled at him, cheerfully. "I heard all the tales, monsieur. I am not concerned."

M. Debree nodded, still looking unsure. "Right. Here are the papers." He handed the folder over to her. Then he reached into his pockets and pulled out a ring of keys. They jingled as he handed them to her as well. "Your fiancée is now the owner of the Palais Garnier."

She took the folder and gave her thanks. "And thank you for selling it at such a low cost."

"I wanted it off my hands, mademoiselle." He threw a wary glance at the opera house once again. "I'm sorry it is in such a sad state, but, as I said, no one has been able to fix it without the ghosts messing around. Maybe all they need is a women's touch to calm them. I hope to someday meet your fiancée. An odd man he must be, to have his mother and intended to do the work of purchasing the opera house."

She nodded at him. "Yes, he is a private man and he is on a business trip at the moment," she responded, remembering the cover story she and Madame Giry came up with to put the opera house into her savior's name. She glanced down at the folder, tempted to take a glance at the name on the deed. It was Madame Giry that had done that part, saying if he wanted her to know his name, he would have told her. She pulled her gaze away from the folder with difficulty to respect his privacy.

"Thank you, Monsieur Debree." She turned and started up the steps to the front door. Memories of the night she came here washed over her.

"You're going in alone! Mademoiselle, that is too dangerous!"

She stopped and faced him. She attempted to calm him with her smile. "I'll be fine, monsieur. There is no need to worry about me. Thank you," she repeated. "You may go now." She started back up the stairs, ignoring his protesting hitch of his breath before he sighed dejectedly. To her luck, he didn't follow her inside.

Inside the building looked different as well. No longer dark, the sunlight had managed to fight through the cracks and holes in the walls, ceiling and the boarded windows allowing her to see the interior for the first time. The entrance hall was huge and there were sculptures and paintings of beauty all around. A grand staircase with faded red frilling carpet and painted in gold was right across from the entrance. The windows had curtains of velvet covering them, dusty and torn from age. Shadows still clang to the edges, covering her view of anything else.

She closed the heavy doors behind her, blocking even more light from getting into the building. She tried remembering everything Madame Giry said about this mysterious figure as she walked towards the grand staircase. Madame Giry was confident that he would be there and he would know the moment she entered the building. She insisted that he would be watching her.

With that in mind, she slowly spun around, looking all around her as if trying to catch a glimpse of him. "Monsieur?" she called out. She stepped onto the first step of the grand staircase. "Monsieur? You might not remember me. You saved me over two years ago, here in this room. It was dark and a man tried to…" she swallowed down a lump in her throat. "…tried to force himself on me. You gave me money and sent me to Madame Giry." She paused and shook her head, feeling ridiculous. "You're not even here, are you? Why would you remember?" she murmured almost to herself.

" _I remember, mademoiselle_ ," a familiar voice whispered into her ear.

She jumped in surprise and looked around, but she couldn't see him. "I'm glad, monsieur." It did make this less awkward. "I wanted to pay you back for your kindness. I have something to give you."

There was a moment of silence. " _Come,"_ The voice came from the top of the staircase, where it was enclosed in darkness.

With her heart pounding nervously, she carefully made her way up the staircase, using her feet to find the next step. She was soon embraced in the darkness of the theater. She stopped once she made it to the top. She felt a presence standing by her side and she turned to face him. He had such an overpowering presence. It made her feel small and insignificant. She stood in front of him, her head lowered and her hands clinching the folder and keys.

"You need not give me anything," he said softly.

She nodded, her eyes flickering up to his silhouette figure. "I know, but I wanted to." She held out the folder. "Here," she said.

She felt the folder leave her hand. She saw his tall silhouette figure turn from her. He stood on the top of the staircase, back to her. He used the light from below to read through the folder. For several long minutes, he stared at the contents. Carlynda shifted her feet as she waited nervously for his reaction. She held tightly to the ring of keys in her hand, only then remembering she still had them. "Umm…" she said, trying to grab his attention.

"You know my name?" he questioned, interrupting her train of thought.

She blinked in surprise. "Um, no, no," she said shaking her head. "Madame Giry did that part." She waited for him to speak again, but he didn't. Another long minute passed.

Finally, the man sighed and looked away from the folder. "You did not have to do this. This must have cost more than I gave you and I do hope you didn't use the money I gave you to purchase this. I didn't give you that money to be used on me."

"I know, monsieur, and I didn't. With the money you gave me and Madame Giry's help, I was able to open a business."

He turned his head slightly towards her and she could, once again, see something white, but he had turned his head back to the folder before she could get a closer look. "A business?"

She nodded, despite knowing he couldn't see her. "It's a small bakery." She smiled fondly. "I found out that I could make a delicious soufflé. Madame Giry also has a ballet studio and she has me helping her and her daughter. I was able to save up enough money to make an offer on the opera house. Monsieur Debree was nice enough to lower the price some as well." She held up the keys and they jingled. "It is yours now to do as you please."

"I am very touched, mademoiselle." He paused. "Thank you." For some reason, the words 'thank you' seemed foreign to her ears; as if it wasn't something he normally would say. It seemed hesitant and forced. He turned away from the staircase and walked farther into the shadows. She almost couldn't see him at all, but she knew he was now facing her. She could see a glint of white where his face would be. She couldn't quite figure out what it was.

She walked over to him, standing close enough to feel his body heat, and held up the keys again. "You'll need them. They open any door of the building."

She almost felt his amusement as he took the keys from her, but she didn't question him. "Thank you again, mademoiselle. You truly did not have to do this."

She shook her head in disagreement. "I'm the one who should thank you, monsieur. I wouldn't be where I am now if it wasn't for you." Before she could stop herself, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him briefly where she thought his cheek would be. To her outmost embarrassment, though, she managed to get the corner of his mouth. Heat flooded to her cheek and down to her loins. Her heart seemed to have skipped a beat as she froze with her lips still on at the corner of his thin, warm lips. He was tense. He felt like a cold statue. She slowly moved away from him and stepped away from him, meekly glancing down. "Thank you," she whispered before rushing down the steps.

She paused at the door and turned to glance back up the staircase. She couldn't see anyone there. She quickly turned and left the building.

* * *

Carlynda was in her bakery when the news came two weeks later. She was greeting one of her daily customers as she bagged his pastries when he brought it up. He was an elderly man who worked for an aristocratic family as their groundkeeper. She smiled brightly at him as he came up to the counter to order his usual. "Morning, Monsieur Manier," she greeted.

He glanced up from his newspaper briefly to greet her back. "Morning, Mademoislle McBeth. It would be my usual today," he stated before turning back to an interesting article in the paper.

"I have it right here, waiting for you," she announced as she turned to pick up the pastries she had prepared for him. She started to carefully place each pastry in a bag. "Anything interesting in the paper this morning?" she asked.

The elderly man snorted. "You could say so. Listen to this, 'Mysterious Owner Starts Opera House Renovations'," he read the headline.

Carlynda's hands froze and her head popped up in shock. "Pardon?"

M. Manier placed the paper down on the counter. "According to the paper, no one knows who the next owner is. No one has talked directly to him. He has his assistant make all the appointments. The assistant calls his employer, Monsieur Geroux. Nothing more, nothing less," he said.

She turned back to the pastries as she asked as casually as she could, "Is the new owner returning opera and music back to the building?"

M. Manier shrugged. "It doesn't say, but I do hope so. You were able to hear the music all the way down the main street of Paris. It was beautiful. I would like to hear that music again."

Carylnda nodded in agreement as she handed him his bag of pasties. "It would be lovely." She faintly remembered visiting an opera house several years before running away from home. She could still recall the graceful movements of the ballet dancers and the angelic voices of the chorus, the colors and lights. It was one of her top highlighted memories of her life. "Have a nice day, Monsieur Manier." She smiled at him as he handed her the money for the pasties.

"As should you, Mademoiselle Mcbeth." He tipped his hat, gathered the bag and his paper, and left the shop.

"Monsieur Geroux," Carlynda mouthed silently to herself. She wanted to see him and ask what he planned to do with the opera house. She was curious to see how it was coming long, but she restrained herself. She needed a better excuse to see him then asking him a bunch of questions. Besides, how would she find him? He would hardly be at the opera house with construction going on. And she wasn't ready to face him after she came so close to kissing him directly on the lips. Her face heated up in remembrance.

* * *

Carlynda was heading home from a day of window shopping with Meg Giry several months later.

She resisted the urge thus far from going to the opera house, but she kept track of its progress whenever it was mentioned in the daily paper. A week ago, it said that the exterior was completely finished and they only had a few more rooms to complete inside. They were proud of how fast the work was getting done. The tall tales of opera ghosts seemed to mellow after the ghost made no appearance during the reconstruction. Though, workers have been noted to saying how pieces were finishing themselves after they leave for home. Carlynda didn't pay much attention to such tales. She was never one to believe in ghosts, so why bother to listen about them?

The papers said that people have yet to see this mysterious M. Geroux. His lack of appearance was fascinating the public. Rumors and fantasies were starting to fly around M. Geroux, from a romantic street beggar with good luck to his name to him being related to the King. Carylnda believed none of the rumors, having had met M. Geroux, she could say he was no street beggar. As for being related to the King, she wouldn't put it too far from the truth because of his wealth and overwhelming presence, but she couldn't believe that rumor either. There was something wrong about it. She just couldn't picture him as being part of a royal court. She would have surely heard of him, being a former Countess.

Meg pulled her sleeve, stopping her in her tracks. "Beautiful!" she gasped, staring at a shop window.

Carlynda turned to the window and her eyes sparkled. "It is," she agreed staring at the necklace display. She eyed a particular simple necklace. It had a simple silver chain with a petite emerald pedant in the shape of a teardrop. It was a small chain; it would come close to her neck. She would never have enough money to buy it for herself, not after buying the opera house. She turned from it and shook her head at Meg with a grin, "We would never be able to afford any of those."

"But we can still look," Meg said with her usual optimism. She smiled and pulled Carlynda further down the street. "Come. Let's see the opera house!" she suggested with her eyes sparkling with delight. "It's been so long since I've seen it."

Carlynda shook her head. "No, Meg. It's getting late. It's almost dark. We best be getting back or your mother would worry so." She glanced at the pink sky, getting darker by the minute.

Meg didn't stop trying to pull her down the street. "Then we must hurry, Carlynda, or it'll be too dark to see."

Carlynda let Meg drag her to near the center of Paris, where the opera house was once again standing mystically in the setting sun. Carlynda's breath got caught in her throat at the beautiful sight as she stared it from across the street. "It's simply wonderful," she gasped.

"My word," Meg said with wonder. "It looks just like it never been burned." She grabbed Carlynda's arm again and began dragging her across the street. "Come. I want to see if the inside looks the same."

"Meg, no!" Carlynda gasped. "We shouldn't."

"Come, Carlynda. The workers would be home by now and I want to see it while there is still light."

Carlynda could do nothing but allow the excited younger girl to drag her to the front doors. "We shouldn't be here, Meg," she said from behind the blond.

Meg didn't appear to be listening. She reached for the handle and pulled, but the door wouldn't budge. She pulled at it several times, more and more violently each time. She cursed. "It's locked," she said in disappointment.

Carlynda nodded. "It does make a bit of sense, Meg, that it would be locked. As you said, the workers would have returned home by now. May we go?"

Meg sighed. "I suppose. I really wanted to see the inside." She turned and started down the steps.

Carlynda shook her head in amusement at Meg disappointment, knowing the girl would bounce back real soon. She gave the door one last look before turning to follow her, but a soft click sound stopped her and she turned back to the door. Was that the lock? Curiously, she reached for the handle.

"Carlynda?" Meg called out from the pavement.

Carlynda pulled at the handle and, to her surprise, the door cracked opened. She heard Meg gasp before running up the steps to the front door. "You opened it! But…but it was locked!"

Both of them glanced at the darken room beyond the door. Meg suddenly grinned. "Let's check it out."

"No, Meg! Wait!"

But it was too late, Meg rushed in. Carlynda groaned. "Meg," she whispered. "We shouldn't!" There was no response. "Fine, but if we get in trouble, I will blame it all on you." Carlynda stepped in and the door shut behind her, trapping her in the dark. She froze, not wanting to move and hit something. "Meg!" she whispered loudly. "Meg, where are you? I can't see anything." She reached out to feel around her, but she felt nothing but air. "Meg!" she dared to call out a little louder. She turned slowly, keeping her hands out. "Meg?" Her hands hit something warm and big and she jumped away, but something grabbed her hand and pulled her towards it. She let out a squeak before she was spun around, her back hitting something flat and warm, and something snaked across her stomach and her mouth, stopping her squeak from turning into a scream. It all happened so fast.

She felt warm air brush her ear. "Quiet, mademoiselle," a voice command into her ear.

She felt herself relax at the familiar voice, leaning into the warmth of his body. She reached up and touched the gloved-covered hand on her mouth and pulled it gently away. "Monsieur?" she breathed out.

"It is I," he confirmed. He slowly moved his arm from around her, his hand sliding across her stomach, leaving a trail of tingles in her gut. Her heart began to race and she couldn't stop it, or understand why it was pounding. He stepped back, leaving her body cold from his sudden retreat.

She turned around to face him, but, of course, she couldn't see him at all in the darkness. "Why…" She paused to take a breath, trying to calm her heart. "…why are you here, monsieur?" she asked. Her heart began to calm, now that he wasn't so near her.

"Why am I here?" he said in obvious amusement. "I do own the opera house, do I not?"

Carlynda closed her eyes in embarrassment and she could feel her cheeks heat up. She was glad it was too dark for him to see. "Right," she muttered under her breath.

"I was checking on how well the men I hired were doing on my opera house. As I do every night after they leave." There was a pause and Carlynda could almost feel his intense eyes on her. "I believe the question should be, why are _you_ here, mademoiselle?"

"Oh, um." She hesitated, unsure how to answer. "Meg worked here before. She just…just wanted to see it again." Her eyes widened in remembrance. "Meg! I lost her. She's here somewhere." She glanced around, as if to look her for, but the monsieur's voice took her attention again.

"Little Giry is fine, mademoiselle. I saw her enter the auditorium. I made very little changes to the original design. She knows this building very well and was able to find the auditorium easily enough in the dark."

Carlynda felt her body relax in relief before she blinked. "You _saw_ her? How did you see her? I can't see anything."

"I had left some of the lights on in the auditorium. That was where I was when I heard you two trying the door."

"I see." Carlynda's eyes narrowed in thought. "You unlocked the door for us!" she accused. The silence she got from him was answer enough. "Why?" she asked.

"I was curious to know why you are here, at this late hour."

"It's not late," she protested.

"It will be soon."

Carlynda had nothing to say to that, for she knew he was right. "I am very sorry to impose upon you, monsieur. If you just lead me to the auditorium, I'll grab Meg and leave."

"Before you go, mademoiselle, I should warn you."

"About?"

"The man who sold you the opera house has been talking. He may have let your name slip to some infuriating reporters."

"Oh?" she asked.

She tensed when she felt his body heat by her side, she clinched her fingers together as her heart began pounding again…and it wasn't because of fear. Who was this man who seemed to have such power over her?

"I did not know we were engaged to be married," he said in a low tone by her ear.

She felt her face heat up again and her eyes widened. "I just…I told him that because…I…"

"My assistant informs me," he interrupted, "of the many questions he has been getting from reporters about our upcoming wedding. He does not know what to tell them. But your name will be in the post in connection with mine by the end of tomorrow."

"He can't do that." She turned to him. She was able to sense his tall form right in front of her, close enough to feel the brush of his clothes and the heat of his breath against her cheek. "He signed an agreement that he would not speak of what he knew." She took a step back, hoping space between them would help her face cool and calm her heart. Her mind struggle to stay on topic. "He…he went against the agreement by talking."

"Is that so?" he asked thoughtfully. "Hmm. We may be able to keep your name out of the papers after all. You just leave it to me, mademoiselle. I'll take care of it." There was a hint of a threat in his voice and Carlynda, for a moment, felt sorry for Monsieur Debree.

They stood there in silence for a moment before he spoke again. "Come. I'll lead you to the auditorium. It is quite late now. You and Little Giry should get going."

She felt him tentatively touch the back of her hand, an invitation to take his. She turned her hand without question and offered it to him. There was a moment, as if he hesitated, before he took her hand and carefully led her away from the main doors. Just like when they first met, she blindly and willingly followed him as he guided her down some dark corridor.

They stopped at a set of doors. Carlynda could see the light coming from underneath the cracks. "This is where I leave you, mademoiselle. Little Giry would be able to lead you back."

She squeezed his hand in gratitude. "Thank you, again, monsieur." She let go of his hand and turned to the doors. She opened one of them, blinking at the sudden light. Once her eyes adjusted, she turned back, but was unsurprised to see he was already gone.

She turned back to the auditorium. It was a beautiful auditorium, so grand and majestic. Red velvet seating, golden carvings along the walls, the grandiose chandelier hanging from the ceiling, red velvet curtains pulled to the sides of the large stage, and the orchestra pit in front of the stage. "Oh my!" she gasped as she stepped on the soft carpeted aisle. Meg was on the stage dancing to music only she could hear. Carlynda walked down the aisle, watching her as she gracefully spun and dipped and twirled around on stage. By the time Carlynda reached the ledge of the orchestra pit, Meg was done. Carlynda clapped. "That was beautiful, Meg!"

Meg flushed as she received Carlynda's compliment. "Thank you, Carlynda." She glanced around the auditorium. "What do you think? It looks exactly like it did before the fire. Isn't it marvelous?"

Carlynda followed Meg's gaze around the room, noting the beautifully golden-décor of the boxes and the red cushions on the many rows of seats. She nodded. "It is very lovely. Monsieur Geroux must have really loved the opera house."

Meg nodded in agreement. "I do wonder how he was able to get the design so perfect to the original. The blueprints had gone missing many years ago. It was rumored that the Opera Ghost took them."

Carlynda shook her head. "Do not be ridiculous, Meg. There is no such things as ghosts. Now, get off the stage. We best be getting home. Your mother will have a fit. We are late as it is."

"Of course he wasn't a real ghost. He was a man, at the time, but they say he died in the fire. He must be a ghost now," Meg said as she hopped into the orchestra pit and climbed out on the other side. She stood next to Carlynda and leaned in. "I wouldn't be surprised if he was here right now. He must have opened the door for us."

"Why would he do that?" Carlynda asked, sounding doubtful.

Meg shrugged. "I don't know, but who else would have done it. No one else is here and the door was locked. You saw me try the door. It was locked."

Carlynda shook her head, but decided not to try and argue. "Let us leave now, Meg. It's late. If we wait any later, it would be unsafe to walk home alone."

It had gotten a lot darker by the time they stepped outside. "Oh," Carlynda said when she noticed how dark it had gotten. "I didn't realize so much time had passed."

Meg frowned in concerned. "Should we risk it, Carlynda? It gets quite dangerous after dark with unruly men and those women who stands out on the corners."

Carlynda bit her lip in thought. She knew from experience how dangerous it is for ladies and 'pretty boys' to be out after dark. She shook her head. "The sun only just gone down. They won't be out for another hour at least. We best hurry. Your mother would have a fit as it is, it's best not let her wait until morning for us."

Meg nodded in agreement and they began their hurried trip home. Carlynda found herself stopping at the jewelry window again, staring at the emerald tear drop pendant. She wished she had the money. The candles were still burning in the place. She could see someone moving around, packing the jewelry into the vault for the night, getting ready to close. Soon, she knew, the man would pack the jewelry in the display window.

"Carlynda, let's go!" Meg urged, her tensed body pressed against Carlynda.

Carlynda tore her eyes away from the pendant and nodded. "Yes. Sorry, Meg."

They began walking again, but Carlynda heard something behind them and she spun quickly around. She saw nothing but the empty street. Meg looked back, her innocent blue eyes wide with fear. "What is it, Carlynda?"

Carlynda forced a smile on her face to calm Meg and shook her head. "Nothing, Meg. I just thought I heard something. It's alright." She wrapped her arm around Meg's arm and began walking again. She kept her ears out for sounds behind them and she thought she heard fabric moving. She couldn't help but glance back, but there was nothing there. That didn't mean they weren't being followed. There were alleyways between each building that a stalker could have hidden in. It did not make Carlynda feel confidant or safe.

Meg clinched her arm tightly. "What do you hear? And don't lie to me. Is someone following us?" she asked in a fearful whisper.

Carlynda forced the smile back on her face and shook her head, not wanting Meg to worry. "If there is someone following us, Meg, it is our guardian angel."

Meg relaxed and smiled in return. "That is a nice thought to have, isn't it?"

Carlynda nodded. "Yes, Meg, it is." They picked up their pace, almost racing down the street to get home. Whoever was following them either didn't mean them any harm or waited to long for the opportunity to jump them because they made it safely home.

* * *

 **Please review!**


	3. Precious Dreams

**Chapter 3**

Carlynda read the newspaper the moment it arrived. She was beyond relieved to see her name wasn't inside, anywhere. A little calmer, she set the paper on the table for Madame Giry before heading off to her café.

Madame Giry was beyond angry when the girls had walked in last night. Meg felt the brunt of her mother's ire because there really wasn't much Madame Giry could do about Carlynda. Not only was Carlynda of age to make her own choices, but she also wasn't Madame Giry's daughter. However, the older woman did dig into her for getting her daughter into such a situation as walking home at night by themselves. Carlynda really did feel ashamed. Madame Giry had been very kind to her the past few years and was even allowing her to live with them. The least Carlynda could do was be a good influence for Meg and watch out for her. She felt like she failed her duty by losing track of time and spending a stolen moment with Monsieur Geroux, not that that was entirely her choice.

Carlynda worked the day away with a plastered smile on her face, but as the time clicked closer to the delivery of the evening paper, she felt her heart racing nervously. What if her name appeared in the evening paper?

When the evening paper came out, she asked the first person she saw with it if she could look at it. She was beyond relieved when she didn't see her name at all. There was barely any mention of the opera house, just this small article to inform the public when construction was predicated to be finished, which was as soon as a month.

She stood there, holding the paper in amazement. "How did he do it so quickly?" she whispered to herself in wonder. She didn't think he would be able to stop them from putting her name in the paper when he only had a few hours to stop it.

* * *

Right after closing time, she locked up the place and went straight to the opera house. She paused across the street, knowing she couldn't just walk in. It was still early enough for the construction workers to be still there. They were just finishing up for the day, as they could only work with the light of day and it was fading into sunset. She bit her lip in thought. She didn't really want to stand there until they have gone. What if Monsieur Geroux wasn't there? Madame Giry seemed to be in the belief that he basically lived and breathed the opera house, but surely he had a home close by. He couldn't spend all of his time at the opera house, could he? However, he did tell her that he would look over everything the construction crew did right after they left.

To pass time, Carlynda walked over to the jewelry shop window. She frowned in disappointment when she found the necklace was no longer on display. Curiously, she walked into the shop. The owner was cleaning the top of his counter, but looked up when she entered. He was an older man with a friendly face. He smiled at her. "Ah, customer. You made it just in time. I was just about to close shop for the night."

She returned the smile. "It's a bit early, isn't it? You were open quiet late last night." She leaned forward on the now clean counter.

"Yes, well, good thing about owning the place. I choose when to close. My granddaughter came into town this afternoon. I'm off to see her," he answered with an excited gleam in his eye.

"Oh, sorry. I promise I won't take long." She leaned back. "I was just wondering. Yesterday, you had a necklace at the display window up front. It was a green teardrop pendant."

"Oh, that," the elderly man said with a slight frown. "I am very sorry to say, mademoiselle, that was…umm…sold," he answered with a questioning look on his face. His bushy white eyebrows narrowed in question and his head tilted slightly to the left, as if he wasn't sure that was the word he wanted to use. "It was sold last night."

"Last night?" she questioned. "But when I walked by your shop last night, monsieur. It was still there. You were closing for the night. I saw you through the window packing all the jewelry away. Was it stolen?"

"No, mademoiselle, not really. Someone paid for it, more than it was worth, actually. It just happened after hours." He huffed as if frustrated, but she was sure it was the situation and not her questioning that frustrated him. Who wouldn't be a little upset to learn someone could break in at any time and take expensive jewelry?

"Someone broke in and took the necklace, but left money in its place?" she clarified.

The elderly man nodded. "The only reason I didn't get the police involved. I don't even know if it would be called a theft, if the thief paid for it."

She chuckled and shook her head. "I'm not sure either. Anyway, thank you for your time, monsieur."

"Sorry, I couldn't help you, mademoiselle."

Feeling disappointed, she left the shop owner in peace to finish closing for the day. She didn't know what she would have done had he had the necklace. It wasn't like she was able to pay for it.

* * *

By the time she made it back to the Opera House, the workers had all left. She walked up to the door and wasn't surprised to find it locked. She stood there for a second, wondering if she should just turn back or knock. She raised her hand up to the door and hit her fist against it. "Monsieur?" she called. "Are you there, monsieur?" She knocked again, a little harder. "Monsieur?" She waited for a minute before sighing in disappointment.

Just before she was about to walk away, the she heard the familiar clicking sound of the lock turning. She smiled in relief before pushing the door open and walking in, closing the door behind her. The inside was dark. The windows must have been covered for the very little light left from the last few minutes of day didn't penetrate through the windows. "Monsieur?"

"Is this going to be a nightly occurrence, mademoiselle?" His voice came from beside her and she turned to face him in the darkness.

She smiled when she heard his amusement in his voice. "I'm sorry, monsieur, to bother you."

"I never said it was a bother," he interrupted.

She bit her lower lip, trying to keep back another smile. "I…I just wanted to thank you. I don't know how you did in such short notice, but my name did not appear in the paper today and I thank you for it."

"Yes, Monsieur Debree was very apologetic when I saw him last. I don't believe he would be a problem again. He had decided a country life would suite him better."

"A country life," she said dreamily. "I dream of a country life. I wouldn't mind a life away from the sounds and smells of the city. Some place miles from the closest town, away from people. Of course I'll have a small cabin, nothing too fancy, but modest, with flowers and horses." She bit her lower lip and felt her face warm up. "Sorry, monsieur. You don't want to hear that."

"What would you do?"

"Pardon?"

"With your country life. What would you do there?"

"Oh, well, I…" She paused in thought, surprised by his curiosity into her dreams.

His fingers touched the back of her hand, hesitantly. "Come. Let's sit." She turned her hand and willingly allowed him to take it. He led her into the darkness. "Careful, mademoiselle. The workers left their tools lying around the room. Careless, very careless of them." His tone suggested repercussions for their carelessness.

"Carlynda. Carlynda McBeth."

"Pardon? Watch yourself," he added leading her to the side to avoid a hidden obstacle.

"My name, monsieur. I just realized we never fully introduced ourselves." She waited to hear him introduce himself, but there was only silence on his end.

"We reached the stairs. If you don't mind sitting on the steps. I don't believe there are any chairs in this room."

She reached out her foot and felt the rise of the first step. She carefully lowered herself down as she said, teasingly, "You able to see in the dark, Monsieur Geroux?" She purposely used his last name to remind him he had yet to give her his name.

She heard the rustle of his clothes, then felt his presence beside her. "No, Mademoiselle McBeth, but I do have better eyesight in the dark then others."

It didn't fail her that he didn't introduce. He either didn't catch her little nudge or he simply ignored it. She was leaning towards the latter.

"What would you do with a country life, mademoiselle?"

"You may call me Carlynda, monsieur. I believe it's less of a mouthful," she said with a chuckle. "And why are you so curious about my dreams? That's all they are and will ever be—dreams."

"Can't I ask simply to satisfy my curiosity? Must there be a reason?"

Carlynda chuckled again and she was reminded about something Madame Giry had once said years ago. She told her he had almost a child-like need for company. Was this it then? Was he just asking questions to keep her around for companionship? If so, she was all too willing to let him. No one should feel lonely. Loneliness could lead to dark thoughts and deeds. It was part of the reason for her situation several years ago.

"And why, I must ask, mademoiselle, are you avoiding answering my question?" His voice sounded closer to her and amused. She could almost imagine a smile tugging at his lips and wished she knew what he looked like to picture it more clearly.

She gave a half-amused gasped. "Avoiding? I'm not avoiding the question. What makes you think I am?"

"The lack of an answer is a dead giveaway."

She turned her head to face the direction his voice was coming from. "And what makes you think I will tell you my dreams. I do, after all, barely know you, monsieur. You might laugh at my dreams. They are pretty silly."

"No dreams are silly as long as you keep in mind some dreams are impossible." There was something in his tone that suggest experience with impossible dreams, a deep sadness, a hidden pain.

To distract him from his forlorn thoughts, she kept her voice light as she spoke, as if she didn't noticed the turn in his mood. "If I tell you one of my deep dreams, then it is only fair if you tell me one of yours." She pointed a stern figure in his general direction and narrowed her eyes. "And you can't tell me it's to see this opera house at its most wondrous because that is obvious to me that is one of your dreams. Tell me a dream I don't already know, but something interesting and current. I don't want a boyish fantasy of wanting his own pony when he was seven. Do we have a bargain, Monsieur Geroux?"

She heard him move and suddenly felt his breath against her cheek and she could feel the heat of his body against her side. "You drive a hard bargain, Carlynda." He whispered her name like he was caressing the petals of a rose, gentle and soft, like any roughness would tear it apart.

Her heart began to beat wildly and her face heated up like it was suddenly on fire. She backed away slightly as something occurred to her. Was she being coquettish? And was he actually responding to her flirtation? She hadn't even realize she knew how to flirt.

He leaned back. "But I accept your terms."

She took a second to calm her heart and collect her thoughts. She smiled teasingly and stood up. "Tomorrow night, monsieur."

"Pardon?" She heard his movements as he stood.

"Tomorrow night I'll tell you, but right now I should go before it gets even later." She really shouldn't be encouraging late night meetings with a man. It was not proper and she was raised upon proper etiquette.

"Until then, mademoiselle." He reached for her hand, this time he wasn't timid about it. He was growing confident, she realized. He raised her hand up and she felt something warm touch the back of her hand and send tingles up her skin. It was brief, but it got her heart pounding again. He had kissed the back of her hand. "Come. I'll lead you back to the door."

Once they reached the door, she opened it, but paused before leaving. She turned to face his general direction. She could now see his outlined figure standing rather close beside her. "You have gotten quite bold, Monsieur Geroux," she teased with a hint of a smile. "Most may consider it unwise to return."

He seemed to lean slightly closer to her, his body towering over her shorter form. "So I have," he said, disregarding her second statement. "The question is, mademoiselle, are you worth it?"

His question caught her off guard. With the unwanted memories of her past at the forefront of her mind, she shook her head and stumbled over her words. "I…well, no…no, I don't think I am." She glanced at his silhouette figure from beneath her eyelashes.

There was a second of silence before he said, "I'll be the judge of that." He took a step back and bowed. "Goodnight, mademoiselle."

Feeling breathless, she returned his goodnight and walked into the night air. Once again, on the walk home, she swore she heard someone following her in the shadows, but, once again, she made it safely back to Madame Giry's home without incidence.

The next night, Carlynda went straight to the opera house after work and waited for the workers to leave for the night before trying the door of the building. She wasn't too unsurprised to find the door unlocked this time. She slipped quietly in, closing the door behind her. "Monsieur?" She glanced around, but couldn't see anything. There was a light on somewhere down a corridor beside the staircase, but it wasn't enough for her to see the entrance hall clearly.

"Mademoiselle McBeth."

She jumped at the sound of his voice close to her ear. She raised her hand to her beating heart. "You, monsieur, know how to frighten a lady." She turned to face the direction his voice came from.

There was a chuckle, this time from behind her. She spun around as she was reminded about that night all those years ago. Monsieur Geroux hadn't been the only voice she heard that night. There were the whispers. How could she have forgotten about the whispers? She seemed to have forgotten all about them the moment they stopped. No, not forgotten, but pushed them aside to deal with the more pressing issue and never thought to think of them again.

"I must apologize for frightening you, mademoiselle." His voice was now in front of her, completely unaware of her momentary elapse into the past. "It's hard to break habit. Come. I'll lead you back to the staircase to sit."

He took her hand without hesitation again. She smiled as he led her. "Did the workers leave their tools out again, Monsieur Geroux?"

She heard a chuckle in front of her. "No. I made sure they knew how _pleased_ I was."

She let out a chuckle at his obvious sarcasm. "I do hope you weren't too hard on them."

"Watch your step, mademoiselle. We made it to the stairs."

Like last time, Carlynda used her foot to find the first step before lowering herself down. Monsieur Geroux sat beside her, his body heat warming her instantly. She started to lean closer to him before forcing herself to stop. For, despite her strangely flirtatious nature she had around him, she did barely know him.

"Your dream, mademoiselle?"

She let out a short laugh in amusement. "You really want to hear about my dream, don't you, monsieur?"

"And you, mademoiselle," he said with obvious amusement as well, "are determine not to tell me."

She leaned back on the staircase and raised her arm to cushion her head on the third step. The edges of the other steps dug into her back, but not uncomfortably so. She stared up at the darkness above her. "I suppose, I should say my dream is typical," she started.

She heard him move, but couldn't tell what position he moved into, not until he spoke. "How so?" His voice was close to her ear and she knew he had followed her example and leaned back against the stairs, but, instead of facing the darkened ceiling, he was facing her.

"I want to marry." Her faced heated up. "Have children with my husband, who I love and who loves me." Her cheeks were on fire. "We would live in a cabin an hour walk from any village. I would have a little garden with flowers, just flowers, and horses. Two, maybe three, horses. I would tend to the house and children, of course, but my husband would respect any advice I give him with his work. I would to be equal with him, not a possession in his eyes." She smiled dreamily. "I guess that's what I truly, deeply dream about, a husband who loves me and sees me as having equal standing to him and not a possession to use as he pleased. He wouldn't condemn me for my past and he would love his children as much as I will. I want a happy family." She glanced to the side, away from him, embarrassed from her own dreams. "As I said, silly and typical and just a dream. One of those impossible dreams you've mentioned last time."

There was silence for a minute and in that silence she firmly believed he was trying to gently tell her she was right, silly and impossible.

"That is not a silly dream," he finally said. "Nor do I see how it is impossible for you."

She turned her head to him. "Do you not remember how we met, monsieur? What man wants a spoiled woman? It is a foolish dream."

"If he loves you, it wouldn't matter." There was something deeper in his statement. She sensed it, but couldn't pick up what it was.

"Are you the type that believes love conquers all?" she asked almost bitterly.

"No," he answered simply. "I'm the type who would like to believe that, but circumstance and experience taught me otherwise."

"But you believed it will for me?"

"I don't see you as flawed or completely broken. I don't see why some lucky man would not be able to look pass your past."

"You don't know your own gender, then, monsieur. I am unmarriageable, used, and spoiled. I am going into my late twenties now, making me a spinster on top of being used. No man wants a wife like that.

"So, monsieur," she said, quickly changing the subject, "what about your dream? We did have a bargain."

"So we did."

She waited, but he didn't say anything. She shifted to face him, the edge of the stairs now digging her into her side. "Well, monsieur?" she urged.

"My dream is not so dissimilar to yours. I, too, would like a spouse to see me as me and not what I've done in the past, not my…" he paused before changing his sentence, "I want her to love me despite everything. I would love to have a true family. That is something I have never experienced with before. Unlike you, however, my dream is impossible. I've tried and failed. People are too vain to deal with someone like me."

"That doesn't sound impossible to me."

"That is because you are innocent to all I've done. You know nothing of it and of my fa…I am not pleasing to women. There are things about me that you don't know and I don't ever want you to know. Things that will frighten you. It makes it very improbable for me to find a wife."

"Improbable is not impossible, monsieur."

"If you are going to say that, mademoiselle, then I'm going to have to say it back to you. Improbable is not impossible. Your dreams are possible."

She grinned gravely. "Look at that, two of us doomed to be spinsters. Broken and filled with _improbable_ dreams," she said, stressing the word 'improbable'. It was, after all, better then impossible. "What are we going to do?" She gave out a chuckle that lacked humor.

She felt him lean closer to her, felt his breath on her lips. She froze, but her body heated at his close proximity. "I'm sure we can find something to do with our lonely situation. It's never too late to find comfort with someone who shares the same…"

She perked up. "Late? Oh dear." She quickly stood. "How long have I been here?" She heard him sigh before standing as well. "I need to return home before it gets too late."

He led her to the door where they exchanged pleasantries. Just as she was about to walk out, he stopped her with a hand on her arm. She turned back, but he kept himself hidden from the streetlamp lights. "Are you returning tomorrow night? Should I leave the door unlocked?" He asked softly, as if afraid she wouldn't.

"I…I don't know. I really shouldn't." He slowly let go of her arm and took a step back, farther into the darkness surrounding him. "I might," she quickly deflected. "I said I shouldn't, not that I won't."

"Then the door will be unlocked for you. Just in case."

She smiled before leaving. This time, she wasn't sure if someone followed her home that night. She didn't hear anything this time, but she swore she felt someone watching her. However, she did return home unharmed. And the next night, she found herself back at the Opera House.

* * *

 **Honestly though, who doesn't dream of love?**

 **Anyway, please review!**


	4. Changes

**Chapter 4**

For the next few weeks, Carlynda would visit M. Geroux every night after she closed her bakery. Meg was too distracted by her excitement at being asked to return to the Opera house to notice Carlynda returning home later and later, but Madame Giry, despite being busy with her ballet studio, was more observant. When questioned, Carlynda lied to her for the first time in her life. She told Madame Giry that she had been closing the shop later and doing more careful cleanups after closing. Madame Giry hadn't question the story, though she did have a suspicious look in her eye; it was something Carlynda had done before, but that was to raise money to buy the opera house for M. Geroux. She had left her job at Madame Giry's studio, since she no longer needed to bring in the extra money, allowing her to stay at her bakery a little later and go straight to the opera house.

Every night Carlynda and M. Geroux would talk on the staircase. However, since that second night together, they stayed on lighter topics. She would talk about her day, the rude customers, the silly customers, and moments where she made a mistake on an order. He seemed genuinely interested in her daily life, no matter how dull she found it. In return, he would complain to her about the mistakes the workers made and how he had to fix everything and that he should have just done it all by himself. His complaints made her laugh and he didn't seemed offended by her enjoyment of his frustration.

The day of the opera house reopening was fast approaching and, with it, Carlynda's uncertainties over whether or not they would be able to continue seeing each other. They had talked about the reopening, of course, but never whether she would see him once it opened. It wasn't until the day before the reopening that Carlynda brought it up. Monsieur Geroux led her back to door and was about to open it for her when she mentioned it.

"You will be quite busy tomorrow, monsieur."

"Yes, quite." There was a pause and Carlynda waited for him to open the door and say goodbye. He obvious had not thought about whether she would be able to return tomorrow night. But the door stayed shut. "Will you…"

She took a step closer to him. "Will I…?" she whispered.

"Will you still come tomorrow night?"

She felt the beginning of a blush on her cheek. "Do you want me to?"

"Yes," he breathed out.

Carlynda bit back a pleased smile. "Where? Something tells me we wouldn't be able to just sit on the staircase anymore."

"Come to my office right after you close. Knock on the door, I'll let you in."

After agreeing to see him again, Carlynda left the Opera House feeling content and strangely happy. Despite not knowing much about his past or what he looked like, he had become one of her dearest friends. What she knew about him was what matter most, not his appearance, not his background, but who he was as a person.

As she walked down the dark street, lit only by a few street lights, she pondered this man in her life. He had a point, she realized. A few weeks ago, when they both realized just how similar they were, he said something about finding comfort with someone who understood. He was right. She was tired of being alone, of being lonely. She was already in ruin and there was no turning back to get her maidenhood back. Why not enjoy life while she could? She would never marry, there would never be someone she would wait for. It was too late for that. Maybe having someone there would help her with her nightmares.

She heard footsteps behind her and her first thought was of her mysterious stalker who followed her home every night, but that quickly got tossed. Her nightly follower was never that noisy. She never heard footsteps from him. It was usually the swoosh of a cloak or a crack, as if he stepped on something like a twig. It was never his footsteps. Not once had she heard his footsteps.

She determinedly stared ahead of her, her heart pounding in her chest. She held her hands tightly together in front of her, trying to calm the shaking. Her brown eyes flickered around trying to find something, like a weapon, to protect herself with. She shouldn't be out here this late. She should have left the opera house earlier. She knew this city at night. She knew the dangers, but the thought never crossed her mind when she was sitting on that step with M. Geroux.

The footsteps behind her quickened, so she walked faster. She felt fear grab her heart.

Just as she was passing an ally way between a hat shop and a tobacco store a hand shot out, grabbed her arm, and pulled her into the ally. She let out a scream that was quickly muffled by a glove-covered hand as she was pulled against someone's chest. She began to struggle against the man's hold.

"Quiet."

At the familiar sound of M. Geroux's voice, she immediately relaxed. She heard someone cursed from the street then heavy footsteps as the person ran away. It was only then that M. Geroux released her. However, she didn't step away from him. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against his chest, ignoring the way he stiffened. She let out a relieved, but shaky, sigh. She opened her eyes and stared out into the street. "Thank you," she whispered.

His body slowly relaxed and softened behind her. "You're welcome."

Finally, she stepped forward and turned to face him. He was still hidden in the shadow of the buildings, away from the light of the nearest streetlamp. "You follow me home every night." It was more of a statement then a question.

"Yes."

"Why?"

There was a moment of silence. "To see if you return safely home. I know these streets at night."

"So I was right." She smiled softly at him. "You are like a guardian angel."

"Don't," he ordered sharply. "Don't call me an angel. I am no angel."

The hardness of his tone spoke of some history and it reminded her of her thoughts before the footsteps interrupted her. She grabbed her hands in front of her and glanced to the ground. "I'm actually glad you are here. Well, of course, I am, considering what was about to happen. What I meant was that I wanted to see you. Well, talk to you actually. Though talking to you requires seeing you, so both really. I wanted to see and talk to you. Though I'm not really seeing you. You're in the shadows. It's hard to see. But I wanted…"

"What do you want to say, mademoiselle?"

She snapped her mouth shut and flickered her eyes up to him before looking back down at the ground. She twisted her fingers around each other. "I thought about what you said and you're right."

"About?"

She stepped close to him, evading his personal space. She glanced at his face searching for his eyes in the darkness without any success. "I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of holding on to an impossible dream."

"I told you, Carlynda, your dream is not impossible." Her name again. It was only his second time calling her by her name. The effect had not lessen over time.

She shook her head. "Not that dream. The impossible dream of saving myself for my husband, for a man I love. That dream is impossible. I had shied away from men, as if the longer I do without the better the chance that my maidenhood would be restored, but that is impossible. What is done, is done. There is no redoing it, not with that. That is an impossible dream.

"You, Monsieur Geroux, understand what it is like to have impossible and improbable dreams. It is a comfort, knowing I am not the only one. But I am tired of feeling lonely and cold at night. I still have nightmares of those three nights I…I was used as an object to men's pleasure. I don't want my only time to be so…so cold and distant. I will never have a husband to show me how it should be done and felt. I'm tired of being alone." She glanced down, feeling ashamed of her weakness.

His fingers gently grabbed her chin and pulled her head up. She raised her eyes to where she believed his eyes were. His thumb caressed her cheek. "You should make an excuse to Madame Giry for being out all night tomorrow."

She leaned into his touch. "Why?" she whispered.

"Because I am tired of feeling alone as well. I have no experience when it comes to it. I don't want to die before I experience everything that goes on between a man and a woman."

She smiled shyly, surprised by his confession. He seemed like a man of experience. The way he talked, moved, presented himself it all seemed to scream experience and worldliness to her. "Tomorrow night then," she said as she backed away. "I should head home."

He dropped his hand and nodded. "Yes. You should go. I'll follow."

She gave him one last smile before leaving the ally. She felt a little more relaxed, knowing she was protected. Her face turned red. She couldn't believe she just agreed to a man's lover. Oh what her parents would have said if they found out about this. She couldn't help but let out a little giggle. Her parents were no longer in charge of her actions. There was no reason they should hear about this. Even if they did, what could they do? She was basically already cut off from them and she was an adult.

Thoughts of tomorrow night kept her awake that night from nerves and a little excitement.

* * *

The reopening of the Opera House was a big success, according to the evening paper. However, it wasn't the success that hit front page. It was the absent owner, Monsieur Geroux. His financial assistant, Monsieur Jules Bernard, a former masonry worker, was able to smooth over the curious and demanding press, claiming M. Geroux was there to do art, not become a public figure. M. Bernard would become the face of the opera house, not M. Geroux. All questions and concerns would first go through M. Bernard and he would take them up to M. Geroux.

Carlynda was not surprise by this news. If she as the one, if not only, friend of M. Geroux hadn't seen him, then the public sure won't.

As time grew closer to closing time, Carlynda felt her heart beat faster in her chest. She grew distracted easily and several times forgot to add an ingredient or two during her baking. Because of this, she decided to close an half an hour earlier than usual. She quickly changed gowns in the back of the bakery. Changing her brown, working gown to a nice light green gown. She gave herself a quick look in the mirror. The light green gown fitted her well. The hemming of the gown was done with a darker green and the bottom of the dress, in the same green shade as the hemming, was a flowery design. The sleeves were on her shoulders, but they were designed to hang off them in a tempting manner. It was a dress she had gotten several years ago, during the three days she rather forget. It was extremely modest by that standard. It was supposed to be a dress she wore while not working. It was the only modest dress the owner of the brothel would allow, because of the hanging sleeves.

She purposely left off a corset, allowing M. Geroux to have faster and easier excess. She blush at the thought and the consideration she showed. She pulled half of her hair back and into a bun, letting the rest of it to hang over her shoulders. Then, she put on the only pair of earrings she owned, a pair of dangling green earrings. Satisfied with her look, she turned and put on her faded brown and yellow wool bustle coat to cover her corset-less frame. It was nearing the end of summer, so the afternoons were warm, but the nights were starting to get chilly. She wouldn't stand out wearing a coat.

She stepped into the cool air and locked the bakery door behind her. She made her way to the opera house. She couldn't believe she was actually doing this. She stuffed her hands into her coat pocket to pretend they weren't shaking with anticipation. Tonight would start a whole new relationship and, hopefully, a new life. Love may not be a factor, as she would like, but finding comfort through it would be enough. She had to give up the dream of love.

* * *

The inside of the opera house was huge. She had never seen it in full light before. The grand staircase of red and gold, the pillars of white with golden designs, and the windows covered with rich red curtains, pulled back to let the fading light of the sun in. The ceiling seemed to stretch high above her with a few small golden chandeliers. She would hate to have the job of lighting those. They would need a large ladder.

"May I help you, madam?"

Carlynda glanced to the side of the staircase where a stern, bun-haired older woman was standing. The new ballet mistress she was sure. Madame Giry had decided not to take M. Geroux's offer for the ballet mistress position, claim she felt too old. Instead, they made a business deal. Madame Giry would train young girls in her ballet studio and when they were old enough, would send the ones with the most potential to the opera house to further their studies.

"Yes, madam, I was looking for the manager's office. He's expecting me."

"This way, madam." She turned to walk down a hall beside the staircase.

"And it's mademoiselle," she corrected softly. Her heart fluttered nervously and she found herself taking several calming breaths.

The hallway was dim from the few lamps hanging on the walls. She couldn't tell if it was for safety reasons, in case of a fire, or if M. Geroux did it on purpose so he could hide better. The closer they got to the manager's door, the more nervous she felt. Her hands were clinched together in front of her.

"Here we are."

They were standing in front of a simple double doors, nothing too grand, like she would have expected. "Thank you, madam. I'll take it from here," she said, trying to dismiss the ballet mistress.

The ballet mistress eyed her suspiciously. "I see." With one last disapproving look, she turned and continue down the hall.

Carlynda face heated, knowing what the woman was thinking, and knowing the woman was right. She waited until the woman was out of sight before turning back to the door. She took several deep breaths before rising a slightly shaking fist. She rapped on the door a few times. There was silence at first before she heard M. Geroux unmistakable voice calling her to enter. Carlynda turned the knob and entered.

The office was dark. The only light came from the window closest to the door, leaving him and his desk in darkness on the other side of the room. She stepped into the light of the window, closing the door behind her, before facing his direction.

"Monsieur Geroux," she greeted. Now that she was here, it felt like any other time. Her nerves seemed to wash away and she felt herself smile. "I heard the grand opening was a success." She took off her coat and hung it on a coat rack located next to the door. She turned back to him when he didn't answer. She could faintly see his shadowy form sitting there. She narrowed her eyes in question and tilted her head to the side slightly as the smile left her face. "Monsieur Geroux?"

"I…I apologize, Mademoiselle McBeth. I didn't think you would come," he ended his sentence softly, show her some vulnerability.

She replaced the smile. "What made you think that, monsieur? It was I who agreed to it last night."

"I wasn't sure if you were serious or if it was just a spare of the moment thing." He quickly stood up. Carlynda could hear the scraping of the chair as he did. "Forget that. You are here now, looking…" He paused and Carlynda could almost feel his eyes taking his fill of her. "…looking quiet…beautiful." She blushed and reached up to push back her hair that wasn't in her face. Her hand dropped awkwardly when she realized there was no hair to push back. "That blush really does become you, my dear." If anything, that comment made her face turned a shade redder.

"You know how to flatter a lady, monsieur."

"Yes, so it would seem." She heard movement and could see his outline stepping away from the desk. "Come. We'll take this to a more comfortable spot."

She bravely walked into the shadows, her nerves coming back at the suggestive tone of the conversation.

"Reach out your hand. I'll guide you."

She did as she was told and felt his hand touch hers. He wasn't wearing his usual gloves. His hand felt cool to the touch. She grasped his hand tighter, as if to transfer warmth to him. This was why they were about to do this. It was so they wouldn't feel cold at night, alone. She would help warm him as he would warm her.

He led her behind his desk to a hidden door. She couldn't see the door this far away from the only light in the room, but she heard a quiet click sound as he opened it.

"My bedroom," he said softly, as if any louder would frighten her away or ruin the precious moment they were about to have. "I hope you don't mind if we do this in the dark." He shut door behind them.

She shook her head. "No, monsieur," she said, equally as softly. She glanced around, but could only see shapes. It was too dark to see any details.

She felt his chest against her arm. He was standing so close. He was about a head taller than her and she could feel his breath brush against her head, then her ear as he lean down. "Erik."

She felt her eyes close involuntary and leaned into him. "Pardon?"

"My name."

She opened her eyes and glanced to where his face was located. "Erik," she breathed out. His name. She finally had his name. She liked the sound of it. It seemed to fit him well. "Help me not feel so lonely anymore, so cold."

His hand went to her cheeks, his thumb caressing her cheek. "Gladly, my dear."

He bent down until his lips were only inches from hers, then he paused. His warm breath mingled with her shaky breath for a moment. Her heart was pumping even harder and her gut twisted nervously. His lips were then on hers. M. Geroux lips were moving passionately on hers, and she respond in kind. Turning so she faced him and her hands went to his chest. With one hand on her cheek, he moved his other one to her waist and held her there. His lips were soft, but moved roughly. This wasn't about being gentle. It was finding comfort. It was desperateness that prompted them forward. Her stomach seemingly plummeted to the ground and she inhaled deeply through her nose. His scent filled her, overpowered her. The smell of smoke off of burning candles, ink, and sandalwood was filling her senses. Her body moved towards him, to be closer. He then broke the breathless kiss.

They both leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "That was…that was…" she tried to say.

"That was just the beginning," he finished for her as his reached for the buttons of her gown.

* * *

 **Thank you all for your reviews! I am astounded by the positive feedback I've been getting.**

 **Please continue to Review!**


	5. Magical Morning

**Chapter 5**

Sunlight hit her eyelids, forcing her to wake up. She turned her head away from the light and buried her head into the pillow. She paused. The pillow didn't smell like hers. She caught a whiff of sandalwood and…and…she smelled the pillow again…ink. She opened her eyes and found herself in an unfamiliar room by herself. That was then that she remembered what happened the night before. She smiled and bit her lower lip, suddenly feeling giddy like a schoolgirl. She sat up and, holding the sheets to her body, glanced around the room.

The bedroom was spacious, but didn't carry many sentimental items. There was the typical desk, bed, dresser, armoire, and changing screen. There as an open door leading to a washroom. The biggest thing that stood out in the room was the large golden-framed mirror. Next to the bed was a nightstand with a lamp, a book on the French Revolution, and a folded paper note. Written in a childish handwriting was her name. She reached for the note and opened it.

 _Carlynda,_

 _I am sorry to leave you so soon, but I must tend to business. Please feel free to use any of the accommodations, such as the washroom. You may leave through the door leading into my office. You won't be interrupting anything of importance._

 _Thank you, my dear, for your precious gift last night._

 _E._

"Erik," she whispered to herself. Erik Geroux. He told her his name. Did that mean she should address him with it or would it still be M. Geroux? In the privacy of her mind, she would call him Erik.

She smiled and settled back down on the pillow. Last night was wonderful and warm. She didn't have any bad dreams and Erik was a wonderful lover. He didn't seem like he didn't know what he was doing. No, as a matter of fact, he knew exactly what he was doing last night. How could she possibly believe he never done that before? It was too magical. The strange thing was, last night wasn't gentle, it was rough and almost desperate, but it had felt so marvelous and satisfying despite that. What she had experienced in the past was rough, but it wasn't the warm wonderful kind. It was just simply rough and she got no pleasure from it. Last night Erik made sure to give pleasure as much as she.

She narrowed her eyes in thought. Although, there was something on his face. She remembered something scraping her once and awhile and when she reached up to touch, he had stopped her and quickly distracted her with his kisses. Was he wearing a mask? It was none of her business if he was. She was his lover, not his love. There was a difference.

She got out of bed and quickly wrapped her chilled body in the blankets before heading towards the washroom. Erik had been kind enough to have readied a bath for her. She almost squealed with childish delight when she saw rose petals floating in the warm water. Their fragrance tickled her nose. He must have been very pleased with last night to go into such romantic gestures.

After the rather relaxing bath, she changed back into her light green gown before making her way to the door. His note said she wouldn't be interrupting anything of importance if she just walked in, but she wasn't sure. Maybe something came up. She placed her ear at the door, but heard nothing.

Carlynda took the risk to open the door. The office was not as dark as last evening. The curtains on both of the windows were opened, letting in more light. There was no one in the room. She took this chance to glance around. His desk was a dark wood, the top void of any mess. There was a neat stack of papers in one corner, a bottle of black and red ink, and a quill. There was nothing else present. The rest of the office was just as empty. He had a couch between the two windows and several chairs stacked in the far corner. It didn't seem like he expected much company ever. She wasn't all that surprised. He wasn't very social. She left the office and went to her bakery.

* * *

Her mind wondered often to the night before as she prepared pasties and orders. Several of her usual customers had commented on her 'fresh' look and her wide sparkling smile. Then they would chuckle at her faint blush that rose. She hadn't felt this good in years and was surprise just how well the comfort thing she had with Erik worked. There was an extra hop in her steps as one of her usual customers had noted.

That night, as she closed up, she wondered if she should go visit Erik again. Would it be too eager of her? Did she even want to do it again? Carlynda paused in her task of locking the door as the thought hit her. Did she want to do it again? She slowly turned the key and locked the door. ' _Yes_ ,' she thought. She wouldn't mind doing it at all. Last night was so different than what she was used to. It was magical while before it was painful. The question was; did he want to do it again? What if she read too much into his romantic gesture? What if he didn't like it? He never said, not even in the note he left her.

Carlynda stood by her locked door with doubts and uncertainties. Was he expecting her or not? She bit her lip in indecision.

She didn't stop this time, knowing exactly where Erik's office was located. She found herself as nervous as last night, though for a different reason. Last night she knew she was wanted, tonight she did not.

* * *

She made it to Erik's office without being stopped and after taking a few deep breaths, knocked.

"Enter," Erik's voice snapped impatiently.

Carlynda hesitated, wondering if she would improve or worsen his mood. There was only one way to find out. She opened the door and entered. "Monsieur?"

"Carlynda." His tone of voice immediately changed. It hitched upwards slightly in surprise. "You…you're later than usually. I didn't think you'll come."

She closed the door behind her. "I wasn't sure if you wanted me to come," she admitted quietly. She clinched her hands in front of her and waited, biting her lower lip.

He stood up, his chair falling to the ground behind him. "Not wanted you? Last night was…" He stopped as if he couldn't think of the right word to use.

"Magical?" she added.

"Yes. I was hoping it wouldn't become a onetime thing."

She smiled and glanced at the ground bashfully. "I was hoping for that too. It felt nice, being needed and it did work in relaxing me and it gave me a great deal of comfort."

"Yes, I feel the same."

There was a moment of awkward silence where neither one of them knew what to say or do next. Finally, Erik spoke up. "Well, I have a few more things to do, if you don't mind waiting."

"No, no, I don't mind," she quickly reassured.

"Come. I'll lead you back to my room. You may wait there. I shouldn't be much longer."

Trusting him, she walked away from the one source of light with her hand outstretched, waiting for him to take it before she stumbled into anything.

He closed his hand around hers. Once again, he was not wearing his gloves and his hand was as cool as last night. He led her back to his bedroom door. "I will only be but a minute, my dear."

"Is everything alright?"

They paused at the threshold of the bedroom, his hand on her lower back to lead her in. "Pardon?"

She searched for his eyes in the darkness, but wasn't surprised when she couldn't find them. It was much too dark in the back of the office, away from the window. "Earlier, you seemed aggravated."

There was a pause before he said gently, "You don't have to concern yourself with it, Carlynda. It is fine."

She sighed, half annoyed and half accepting of his answer. As a women in this modern time it was rare to find any man who would be willing to discuss business with a female. She should have known better than to expect an answer, yet she did expect one.

"However, if you wish to know," Erik started to say, as if reading her mind, "I already have a problem with a wondering-eyed stagehand. I have to decide when I should fire him."

"Talk to him before you decide," she suggested.

"Pardon?"

Carlynda glanced down with her face turning pink in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I know it isn't my place…"

"Please, my dear, feel free to speak your mind."

"I was just thinking," she began to say hesitantly, "maybe if you speak to this stagehand first, give him his options. Let him know there will be severe consequences if he does it again. Maybe all he needs is a stern warning. Yes, that's how I will phrase it. Give him a warning before you fire him. Let him know that he will only get that one warning. I would hate for him to get fired if all he needed was to know it's against the rules here."

She didn't flinched when his hand cup her cheek. His thumb caressed her just below the eye. "Perhaps, I'll do just that. My voice of reason, that's what you are," he said softly.

His lips were suddenly on hers and she was pushed back against the doorframe, his hands cupping her cheeks. His body was pressed against hers so tightly, she could feel his need for her. She reached out and grasped his shirt. Her eyes flittered closed as she tilted her head up for a different angle. His tongue entered her mouth and battled hers for dominance. It was a fight she playfully participated in. He pushed her legs aside with his hip and settled between them. She moaned into his mouth and moved her hands to his shoulders.

His lips left hers, only to move down her cheeks and to her neck. She tilted her head away to give him better access. He moved back up to nibble at her earlobes. "My dear," he breathed out in a husky voice, "I still have work to do and if we don't stop now I'll take you right here against the doorframe."

With her breath coming out as pants, she managed to say with a smile, "I don't mind."

His breath fluttered across her cheek as he let out a chuckle. "Of course you wouldn't and neither would I, but I still have work to do." He stepped back from her. "I'll return soon…very soon," he said in a low voice that whispered promises.

* * *

The next morning she woke feeling refreshed, but, once again, alone in bed. On the stand was a delicate, fully bloomed rose with a black ribbon wrapped around it and a note. She picked up the rose and smelled it, her cheeks hurting from the smile that just wouldn't leave. Then, she read the short note.

 _Carlynda,_

 _Until tonight_

 _E._

She already couldn't wait for tonight. Last night, in the aftermath of their activities, he had asked her to return the next night. She had, of course, readily agreed. His short note seemed to be filled with promises of later.

Carlynda got out of bed, bathed and changed before heading off to her day at the bakery.

* * *

The next several weeks followed the same routine. She would go to work until closing, then head to the Opera House and into Erik's willing arms. In the morning, she would find herself alone in bed, but Erik would always leave some trinket for her: a note, a box of chocolates, a rose, a breakfast tray. She would bath and change there before heading back to work.

She barely ever saw Madame Giry anymore, causing much suspicion. Carlynda didn't mind. She had never felt better. Only on Sundays, the only day her bakery wasn't opened, would she see Madame Giry. She, however, saw Meg once and awhile at the opera house, since the younger girl spent all of her time there. Not to say she didn't return home for a visit with her mother, but Carlynda was usually with Erik on those days or at her bakery. She would sometimes visit Meg before going to Erik or before heading off to work.

Carlynda and Erik had gotten into a habit of talking before they 'retired' for the night. Erik started discussing his day at the opera house, the same Carlynda did with her bakery. They helped each other out with problems and gave each other advice.

Almost two months passed before there was any interruption in their lives. Carlynda had closed her shop an hour early due to a very slow day, then headed straight to the opera house. She had come to be a very familiar face there. She had no doubt people were whispering about her relationship with their employer. Although it did annoy her a great deal, she didn't stop seeing Erik. Her days since that first night in his arms were lightened and she felt more at eased than ever before. She was determined not to let anyone tell her how to live her life ever again.

She made it to Erik's office door, but loud voices inside stopped her from knocking. She couldn't hear what was being spoken, but she recognized Erik's voice as he snapped at his visitor. Curiously, she put her ear to the door. The voices was still too muffled for her to catch any words. Realizing Erik was in a terrible mood, she knocked. It was best to interrupt before he said or did something he would later regret.

There was a moment of quiet after she knocked before Erik snapped for her to enter. She entered. As usual, the window closest to the door was the only light source. The side of the office with Erik's desk and the door to his bedroom remained in darkness. Standing closest to her was a tall, skinny man wearing a fashionable suit. He was tightly holding his top hat in front of him. His brown hair was lying flat on his top of his head, like a wet mop. He was a twitchy man.

She heard Erik sigh, a sign that he was letting out some of his frustration. "Carlynda, you're early."

She glanced away from the strange man to locate Erik's silhouette figure. He appeared to be standing on the other side of his desk. "I'm sorry, monsieur. I could wait if you're still busy."

"No, no, mademoiselle. If that is all, Jules," he said addressing the other man, his tone hardening.

The man gave a jerky nod. "Um, yes, yes, sir." He backed away before turning to leave the room.

Carlynda stepped aside to let him pass and waited to hear the click of the door before speaking. "Is everything alright, Erik?" She took off her rich green cloak, a recent gift from Erik as the weather was getting colder, and hung it on the rack. She stepped into the shadows, unafraid. The only time when dark didn't scare her was when she was with Erik, knowing he was there to grab her hand, just like he did now. He led her over to the seat beside him.

"No," he finally answered as he sat her down.

She reached out and felt the strong, tense muscle of his arms. She squeezed to offer him comfort. "What is wrong?"

His hand grasped hers and gave a gentle squeeze in return. "That was Jules Bernard."

"Your financial assistant?"

"Yes. He found someone to become our patron. He is going to be here the day after tomorrow to meet me, bright and early in the morning."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

He suddenly stood up and Carlynda leaned back in surprised. "Good thing? Ha, that's a laugh." She felt the air shift around her as he began pacing. "Patrons don't care about the arts," he spat. "They just want an excuse to show off their money! They are a nuisance. They just come to visit the opera house whenever they want to gaze disgustingly at the women in the chorus. I will not have that in this opera house! Patrons are the rich and wealthy, the entitled. They believe themselves above everyone. They would believe themselves to be in control of what goes on here, just because their can hold money over my head! A patron would think he has the right to speak to me directly, see me face to face. He would think himself too high and mighty to deal with Jules Bernard. He would not be happy when I want to meet him in the dark. He would be a silly fop." He stopped beside her chair, his hand resting on the back, right by her head. She could feel his body heat close. "No, no, my dear. Patrons are nothing but trouble."

She reached up and placed her hand on his much cooler one. Just that move alone seemed to suck the frustration out of him. She felt his hand relax under hers and he sighed heavily above her. "Does Monsieur Bernard believe you need a patron?"

"We don't need one now. I have enough money to support this opera house for a while yet, but Jules believe it would be best to be prepared. Apparently, the man approached him with the offer. Jules didn't want to pass up the chance to bring in more money, in case we'll need it in the future."

"Then why not give this man a chance. Maybe he will prove you wrong. It is best to be prepared, then be sorry later. The meeting you have with him should give you some idea to his character. Don't judge this man just yet."

She felt more then saw him knelt down before her. She could almost feel his eyes on her face. "You, my dear," he said softly as his caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, "are something. You really are my voice of reason."

She blushed at his soft, stroking tone.

"You truly believe everyone deserves a chance?"

"I guess I do," she answered in an equally soft tone. "I wasn't wrong about the stagehand, was I?"

"No, no you weren't. Though I am still keeping a strict eye on him. He hasn't made any more moves or remarks to any of the women here. You, my…," he choked back the word he was going to say, "…my dear, are a wonder."

"And you, my kind monsieur, still flatter me."

He chuckled and moved back to his seat beside her. "You are worth the flattery and I mean every word I say."

"So will you give him a chance?" she asked, trying to divert his attention away from his flattery.

"I'll keep myself open to the idea when I see him. No promises, but I won't turn him around at the door."

"How early are you expecting him?"

"He will be here quiet early. You may still be here when he comes. If you wish, you could wait in my room until he had gone, but you don't have to worry about that until tomorrow night. Tell me, how was your work today?"

"Extremely slow. There was the morning rush with my usual customers, but then I had no one from noon to four. After that only one or two people came in at a time, but not many bought anything. They were just looking. I closed early."

"I see that. I can't seem to complain."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Of course you wouldn't."

"One of these nights you should bring me one of your famous pastries."

"Yes, I should, but you'll have to wait for that."

"Oh? You're not going to bring me one tomorrow night?"

She smiled. "I'm not opening my bakery tomorrow."

"Really?" he asked leaning back in his chair. She could hear the creak of the chair as he shifted. "Why ever not?"

"I wanted a break and thought not opening on my, well, my birthday is a good day to take that break."

"It's your birthday tomorrow?" He sounded rather interested.

"Yes."

"Hm, November fifteenth. I'll have to keep that in mind."

She felt her heart race as she realized he planned to still have their arrangement a year from now. That seemed to be such a long time to be merely lovers. She hadn't thought that far. She was just living through this night by blissful night, not thinking what the future would bring to them.

"Well, my dear, are you ready to turn in for the night?" He stood up.

"Yes, I believe I am." She reached out a hand and he gently took it.

After helping her up, he led her to his bedroom door.

* * *

 **Please Review! Tell me what you think~**


	6. Birthday Surprise

**Chapter 6:**

Was he deceiving her? Erik was staring down at Carlynda's sleeping form. She looked so peaceful and so very beautiful. She was not another Christine. He was firm on that, but was he still deceiving her like he did Christine? Carlynda willingly came to him every night, but she didn't know who she was with. She didn't know how he felt about her. She didn't know about what lies beneath his mask, if she knew about that at all. She never asked, but she must have felt the edge of the mask scrap her once or twice. He tried to be careful, but in the throes of passion it was hard to think straight.

He reached down and traced the outline of her face with the back of his fingers. She was so different then when he first met her. Back then he felt nothing but annoyance towards her. She seemed to be throwing all her problems at his feet as if she was trying to get him to fix it for her. She seemed a little spoil and childish, but she grew from that. Lord, did she grow since then. He wasn't expecting to fall for her at all. The first time there was any indication that there was something there was when she kissed him at the corner of his mouth. Since that moment, she was on his mind and she kept showing up at the opera house. The attraction he had felt since she first kissed him grew stronger at each passing day. The more she came, the stronger he felt for her until there was no denying his love for Carlynda McBeth.

"Oh, Carlynda," he whispered, "my love." He kissed her temple. Was it deceptive to use their loneliness to get her into his bed when all he wanted to do was love her? The last woman he loved left him heartbroken and abandoned him to the bloodthirsty mob. He feared this love he had for Carlynda, as much as he relished in it. He didn't know how to tell her he loved her. He only hoped she would eventually be able to see it through his actions. Surely she knew by now, right? He always thought he was too obvious with his feelings. He wanted to give Carlynda her dream, to be loved despite her past, her background. To be equal to him, not a possession. That was where he went wrong with Christine all those years ago. He wanted her like a possession. He would not make the same mistake. He learned from it and he did see Carlynda as equal to him. He was showing that by talking to her about the opera house, seeking advice.

He settled back down on his pillow, pulling Carlynda into his embrace. She moaned but settled against him, her hand resting on his bare chest. He kissed the top of her head and glanced at the window. Light was trying to enter, but the thick curtains was doing its job at holding it back. He could see the faint outline of the light around the curtains, but not enough for a normal person to see the room clearly. He was confidant she wouldn't see him when she woke. He was usually gone by now, doing his rounds around the opera house, but he had already sent a note to Jules that he was taking a day off. This would be his first time being there when she woke.

Carlynda McBeth. That was such an English name for a French woman. Did she think she was fooling him with that name? He couldn't blame her for living with a false name. Putting herself into prostitution all those years ago surely would make anyone change their name to hide their identity. He knew she must be someone entitled. Who else would think to change their names before entering the service of prostitution? She was hiding from someone, her parents? Her husband? Her fiancé? A sibling? The law? There were many possible people she could be hiding from. He could only hope it was not a husband. For some day he would love to marry her. A wish he was sure would not come true. She would certainly not want to marry anyone without looking at their face and, once she did that, she would never marry him. Who would want to marry a man who looked like a monster? Who had a monstrous past?

"Erik?"

He glanced down at the woman in his arms. She was rubbing her sleepy eyes before lifting up her head. "Erik?" she questioned again.

"I'm here."

She glanced around, but her eyes was unfocused. He knew she couldn't see anything in the dark. "What time is it? Is it early?"

"It must be a little passed eight, my dear."

Her head whipped in his direction, her wide eyes searching for his without success. "Eight?"

"Yes."

"Don't you have work today, Erik? You're never here when I wake up."

A strand of brown hair went into her face and he couldn't help but reach out and push it back, his fingertips stroking her cheek and earlobe as he did so. "Today is a special day, is it not? I thought we lie in today and enjoy the day of your birth."

A smile spread across her face. It was a beautiful smile that grabbed the attention of his eyes and held them captive. Her smile always brightened his day. No, it wasn't just her smile. It was her presence that brightened his day. Her smile gave him his only glimpse of heaven. "I would enjoy that very much."

* * *

Hours later, found them sitting up in bed. She was in her white nightgown and he was only in his long drawers. She sat between his legs with her back leaning against his bare chest and a blindfold covered her eyes. He had opened the curtains a little to let her feel the rays of the warm sun and in front of them on the bed was a tray of an assortment of fruits and chocolates he got from his storage in his lair.

He reached around her to grab a fruit from the tray. He placed the fruit to her lips. "Open, my dear," he said in her ear.

She opened her mouth and took a bit. Juice squirted out and she moaned in surprised. "My word," she said over her bites. She swallowed and turned her head in Erik's direction. "A strawberry." Her smile showed him her delight. "I haven't had a strawberry in years. But how do you have strawberries? The season for strawberries were over months ago."

He placed the calyx of the strawberry back on the tray. "I have my ways." Her head was still facing him and he glanced down at her mouth. The corner of her mouth showed a hint of left over strawberry juice. It was so tempting, he couldn't help but bend down and kiss her. She responded to his kiss eagerly. He could taste the strawberry she had just ate and it made her even more delicious. He pulled back. "You ready for your next taste, my dear?"

She leaned her head back against his shoulder and smiled enticingly. "That wasn't it?"

He wanted to kiss her again, so he did. The kiss was quick though. He pulled back a little. His lips brushed against hers as he spoke. "No, my dear, it was not." He reached for one of the chocolates this time. "Open," he said as he pressed the chocolate against her lips.

"Hmm," she hummed as the chocolate melted into her mouth. "Strawberries and chocolate." She shifted around so she was kneeling in front of him. "That is an enchanting combination."

He pulled her to him and gave her a deep kiss, exploring her mouth and tasting the chocolate. "It is a very enchanting combination," he whispered against her lips.

She pulled back from him with a coy smile. "I do believe, monsieur, that is your turn."

"My turn, mademoiselle?" He leaned back casually against the bedpost and just stared the charming sight. The light from the window gave her this divine look. The sun's rays outlined her body, as if she was an angel descending from heaven. It gave her dark brown hair a glow and made her pale skin shine. He wished he could reach up and take that blindfold off of her, to see her whole face become radiant in the sun, to see the sparkle in her eyes. His heart craved it, but he dared not reach for the blindfold. She may be the angel, but he was the demon. He didn't wish for her to see him. He wouldn't be able to handle it if she so much as flinches away from him. If she knew who he was, if she knew what he had done…no, there would be no showing or telling her of his past and who he truly was.

"Yes, your turn." She placed and hand down on his thigh as her other's reached towards his face. "Where is your mouth?"

He guide her hand to his lips, kissing her fingertips. She giggled. "Now, closed your eyes." She waited a second. "Are your eyes closed?"

"Yes," he lied. He couldn't seem to look away from her. She was so enchanting, more enchanting then strawberries and chocolates. He hadn't been this relaxed since…well, he couldn't seem to think of a time when he had ever been this relaxed.

"You lie!"

"How do you know? Can you see through that blindfold?" he asked, a brief flicker of panic seizing him.

She laughed and shook her head, unknowingly calming him. "No, but you just revealed you were lying. Now, close them."

He smiled, but did as he was told.

"Are they closed?"

"Yes."

"Are they?" she asked again.

He chuckled and nodded. "I promise, Carlynda. My eyes are shut."

He heard her fingertips click against the metal tray, looking blindly for a fruit. Her fingers on her other hand remained at his mouth. He opened his mouth and captured one of her digits. He swirled his tongue around it as she pulled it out. "Behave, monsieur," she ordered, but he could hear the amusement in her tone.

"It is not my fault that I am, at this moment, very, very hard." He heard a breathy chuckle and didn't need to look to know her face was bright red. Despite the fact she was no longer naïve or innocent, such talk always made her blush. He found it very endearing.

He felt something wet and cold against his lips. "Open. After you eat this I'll help you with your hard problem," she whispered, not at all sounding innocent.

With her promise, he quickly opened his mouth and ate the offered fruit. His teeth sank into the soft, juicy fruit easily. It was a watermelon. He opened his eyes after he swallowed. "Watermelon," he answered before flipping her down on the bed and going on top of her. She smiled up at him. "Now, you promised to help me out."

"So I did."

He bent down and captured her lips.

* * *

Several more hours later, Erik was eyeing Carlynda from the other side of the bed. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be, my dear."

Her lips twitched as she tried to hold back her laughter. "Never. Though, it is hardly fair that you can see and I can't."

"You can see well enough." He had let the curtains close again and the blindfold was no longer wrapped around her eyes. He knew she should be able to see dark shapes, if nothing else. He started to creep around the bed, but she was carefully trying to keep the distance between them, by slowly getting on the bed, getting ready to jump on the other side the moment he got too close.

He rushed to her just as she let out a startled laugh and jumped to the other side of the bed. The bed once again stood between them. "You have to be quicker than that, Erik," she teased.

"Trust me, I will." This time he lunged across the bed. She tried to escape, but he quickly had her in his embrace, her back against his chest. She wiggled around while laughing, trying to break his hold, but he was much stronger. His hand held one of her arms up. She tried to hold her arm down, but wasn't successful. His other arm reached across her body and his fingers found her armpit.

"No…no…stop…stop…" Her words lost effect through her laughter. She continued to struggle, but he had a tight hold on her. "Erik…Erik…" She wiggled, trying to escape his fingers. She couldn't stop the laughter as he tickled her.

"You should never have told me you were ticklish. You must have known I would be very curious." The feeling of her body against his was most certainly alerting his body to her feminine charms.

She pushed against his chest, no doubt feeling his reaction to her. They fell back on the bed and he broke his hold of her. She turned and reached between his legs. "Again, monsieur?" she asked coyly.

He sucked in a breath and nodded. "Always, mademoiselle." She bent down and kissed him as his hands went to the tie of her nightgown.

* * *

Another hour or two later, they were laying on the ground with the blankets twisted around their legs. Erik was bending over her with several small round fruits in his hands. "Open up and be careful. They are small. I don't want you to choke."

She opened her mouth and he let three of the red fruits drop. She moaned as she chewed. "That was good. What was that?" she asked after she swallowed. "I never had it before."

"Pomegranate," he answered.

Her eyes widened. "Pomegranate?" She smiled. "The fruit that bond Persephone to Hades forever."

"Yes, I find it quite fitting."

"Fitting? How so?"

He shook his head, not willing to answer. In his mind, she was Persephone and he was Hades. He wanted nothing more than to bond her to him forever, but, unlike the Greek myth, pomegranate did not bind her to him and he didn't want to force her. He wasn't that cruel, not anymore. Never again would he attempt to force a woman to love him. He liked to believe he learned from his mistakes of years ago. To distract her, he bent down and kissed her. She moaned into the kiss. He pulled back and ran a hand down her smooth cheek tenderly. So soft and tempting. She put Aphrodite, Hathor, Venus, and all those other goddesses of love and beauty to shame.

She smiled and stretched. "What time is it?"

"I would say it is close to four."

She groaned. "I should go. Madame Giry will be wondering where I am. She knew I didn't plan to open the bakery today."

"Yes, I should probably let her say happy birthday to the birthday girl." He stood and helped her up. "I'll help you dress," he said, knowing it would be hard for her to do it in the dark.

A few minutes later, she was dressed. She stood in front of him and gave him a smile. "I had fun today, Erik. Thank you. It was the best birthday I had in years."

"I have something for you, my dear." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace he had been carrying around for months. He had been waiting for the best time give it to her. Today seemed to be the perfect time.

Her smile widened. "Really, Erik, you didn't need to."

"I know, but I wanted to."

She bit her lip in excitement. "What is it?"

"Turn around." He waited until her back was to him before placing the necklace around her neck.

Her hands went to it the moment he had it on. "Thank you so much, Erik. I may not be able to see it right now, but I know it's beautiful. I'll treasure it." She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss. "I'll return tonight," she promised before slipping out of the room.

He stared at the closed door with a heavy heart. Surely after today she knew he loved her.

* * *

Carlynda stepped out of the opera house before looking down at the necklace around her neck. Her breath got caught in her throat. The necklace was on a simple silver chain with a familiar petite emerald pedant in the shape of a teardrop. It was the necklace she had eyed months ago. The necklace that had disappeared from the jewelry shop. How did Erik…? How did he even know?

She glanced back at the opera house and let out a pleased giggle. It didn't matter. What did matter was that he noticed and that he got it for her. He must care for her. She was helping him with his loneliness, just as much as he was helping her with her loneliness. With a pleased smile, she headed off to Madame Giry's house. Thoughts of love never entered her mind.

* * *

She entered the house to find Madame Giry waiting for her in the kitchen, finishing up dinner. Meg was there, waiting for her in the sitting room.

"Carlynda!" The blonde rushed to give her a hug. "It's been so long since I saw you last!"

Carlynda smiled at the enthusiastic younger girl. "I'm sorry, Meg. I've been spending a lot of time at the bakery. Besides, I saw you only a week ago."

Meg gave her a knowing grin. " _Only_ at the bakery?" Basically living at the opera house, she would have most certainly heard whatever rumors were there about Carlynda's relationship with Erik. Carlynda hoped Madame Giry hadn't picked up any whispers. Leaning in so her mother wouldn't hear, Meg whispered, "I know you don't go to the opera house only to visit me. You should just move in with him. It's not like you're ever home anyway. And did you know that most people believe you're _married_ to him?"

Carlynda eyes widened. "Is that the rumor?"

Meg nodded. "I, of course, know the truth because I know you, but I didn't feel it necessary to correct them. And why wouldn't people think that. They don't know him or you all that well, if at all."

"Thank you, Meg." She prefer letting people think she was married to Erik, then them knowing what was truly going on.

Meg suddenly grinned and grabbed her arm. "But I want to know. Is he any good?"

Carlynda felt her cheeks burn red and her mouth flew opened. "Meg!"

Meg shrugged innocently. "A girl could wonder."

The conversation was thankfully put to a halt when Madame Giry came over to greet her, but that didn't stop Meg's childish giggle at Carlynda's embarrassment. However, something Meg said did catch her attention. Maybe she should move out. She could take up only so much of Madame Giry's hospitality. That wasn't the only thing that started to form in her mind. What if she hired more people at the bakery? Then she wouldn't have to be there herself all the time, giving her more time to herself or to Erik. She no longer had to worry about saving up money. She got the opera house. She could now use her money to hire people.

The idea jingled around in her mind all through her birthday dinner and her walk back to the opera house a few hours later.

* * *

 **This was such a sweet chapter to write!**

 **Please Review!**


	7. Lucian

**Chapter 7**

The sunlight woke her up again the next morning. Carlynda turned her head away and looked to the empty spot beside her. She was slightly disappointed, but not surprised, to see Erik had already gotten up. She stretched her arms and groaned. She snuggled back into the warm blankets. They smelled like Erik, she realized. She buried her head into the sheets and smiled. Something about his scent made her feel so happy. She didn't understand why, but what she did understand was her reluctance to get up. Yesterday's break from work was so wonderful she didn't want to return to it just yet. She was too comfortable in bed. She looked to the nightstand beside the bed and smiled. This morning Erik had left her another rose and a note.

She reached over and picked up the note.

 _Carlynda,_

 _This morning is the meeting with the fop who wishes to be my patron. I may still be in the meeting when you wake. I'll open the door once he is gone._

 _I'll see you then._

 _E._

She chuckled and shook her head. It was the first time he didn't put anything remotely romantic in his letter. She glanced over at the door. Since it was still closed, she could assume he was still in the meeting, giving her more time in bed. She might have to open her bakery a little later than usual. She might have some customer complaints with that. That would be another upside if she could hire more people. If she was late, the bakery would still open at the right time.

* * *

Thirty minutes later she had her ear pressed against the door to the office, trying to hear voices indicating Erik was still in his meeting. She thought she could hear Erik's familiar baritone voice, but wasn't sure. She moved to the armoire and opened it. On one side of the dresser was Erik's suits, lined up with perfect spacing between each hanger. On the other side was her dresses with equally even spacing. She shook her head in amusement for Erik's neatness before pulling out a light blue dress. Since she was always there, Carlynda started to leave clothes. Now that she thought about it, half of her clothing had ended up in Erik's room. It almost looked like she already moved in.

Carlynda paused as this thought it her. She glanced around, seeing evidence of her all around. There was her brush on the vanity Erik had put in his room for her use and her little log book that she use to keep track of her supplies and money for the bakery. Her facial powder was sitting innocently at the edge, still full because she barely ever used it.

She opened a drawer on the small dresser and saw she had filled it with her books. Erik didn't have a bookshelf in his room, but he had promised to install one high above the bed for her. She closed the drawer and let her dress fall to the floor as she explored some more. On top of the dresser was the vase with some of the roses Erik got for her and a box of some of her jewelry. She knew the rest of her jewelry was located in a drawer at her vanity. In the washroom, she spotted her frequencies by the wash pale, her towel on the rack next to Erik's, and her scented soap by the tub.

"My word," she whispered. It _was_ as if she moved in with him. She hadn't even realized it had happened until Meg had mentioned the possibility. She felt her face heat up in embarrassment. The arrangement with Erik wasn't for her to move in with him. They were only lovers. He was not her suitor. They weren't courting and most certainly not married. What would Erik think of this once he realize what was happening? The very thought of Erik's possible reaction mortified her. That settled it. She must find another living arrangement. Some place close to the opera house.

"Oh," she said in distress. What would be the point? She spent her nights at Erik's side every night. She woke up here and got ready for her day. Her things would still end up here.

Not knowing what to do and knowing there wasn't anything to do at that particular time, Carlynda finished getting ready for her day.

* * *

She was putting her hair up on top of her head after she bathed and changed into her blue dress when the door to Erik's office opened. She looked in the mirror and saw Erik's dark reflection standing in his office, away from the light of the window in the room.

"Slow morning, my dear?"

She smiled and nodded. The worries she had before had washed away while she was in the bath, giving her the ability to smile brightly as she put in the last pin. She turned in her seat with the smile still on her face. "Yes. It was lovely. I wouldn't mind having a slow morning more often." She stood up and went to the window to close the curtains.

With the sunlight hiding behind the curtains, Erik was free to enter the room. "You seem to be making a habit of sleeping in. It will eventually effect your business."

"Yes, but I was thinking of hiring people so I didn't have to show up every day or stay for nearly so long."

Erik took her hand to lead her back to the office door. "That would be splendid."

"How did the meeting go?" she asked.

Erik creaked open the door to let the hallway light in, but, of course, stayed off to the side so she still couldn't see him. "I'll tell you all about it when you come tonight. I have no wish to keep you from your work."

"Until tonight then." With one last smile she left his office and rushed to the front entrance. She was already late in opening her bakery, but she didn't want to be any later.

She exited the opera house, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the bright sunlight. Ahead of her a well dress man was waiting for his footman to open his carriage door for him. He must be the possible new patron. His shoulder length brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He was tall, but not nearly as broad as Erik. His clothes were made from the finest tailor, rich in coloring and fabric. His boots were made from some expansive leather. He was holding a cane against his side with his arm as he wiped some dirt off his black bowler hat.

She paused at the top of the steps. The figure looked very, very familiar. It couldn't be. No. Was it? "Lucian?"

The man paused and turned, his familiar hazel eyes catching sight of her. His face was clean shaven and there were tired lines under his eyes. "Claudette?" His eyes lit up and he rushed up the steps. "Claudette!"

She laughed and rushed down, meeting him half way. He quickly scooped her up in his arms and spun her. "Lucian!" He put her down, but kept his hands on her arm. The smile wasn't leaving any of their faces. "Lucian, what are you doing here?"

"What am _I_ doing here? What are _you_ doing here? Claudette, I came home to find you gone. No one knew where you went. You were just gone!" The smile faded from his face. "No word from you for three years. How do you think that made me feel? But enough about that." He took a step back and looked down at her. The smile was back on his face. "Look at you! You've grown."

She giggled and shook her head. "No I didn't. You will find that I am the exact same size I was when you last saw me."

He stepped close to her and measured her with his hand. She came just to his nose. He stepped back and nodded. "I can see that."

"Oh, you." She punched him in the arm.

He laughed as he rubbed his arm. "You've grown violent to be sure. However, your height wasn't what I was talking about. You seem different, more mature and wise. You've grown in spirit, very, _very_ different from the young, innocent, naive, spoiled girl I knew when I left."

She nodded. "I know. In many ways it's a good thing I left home."

His eyebrows went up. "More proof of your growth. Had I called you spoiled before, I would be covering my ears from your wails."

Her mouth flew opened in protest. "I would not have wailed."

He nodded. "Yes, you would have. You were a delicate little creature. Too innocent to know your own wants and needs. Which caused me the greatest surprise to find you've ran away. Something I still don't understand."

She glanced down, feeling a little uncomfortable. She wasn't sure why she couldn't tell Lucian. She had told him everything once, but he wasn't there when she needed him the most. It wasn't his fault, but she still couldn't help but blame part of it on him.

Seemingly noticing her distress, he said, "Let's not talk of that just yet. Come, have a late breakfast with me. We have much to catch up on." He took her hand and placed it on his arm to lead her to his waiting carriage.

She smiled and shook her head. "I wish I could, but I am already late in opening my bakery."

He paused and glanced down at her. "Your bakery? You've opened a bakery? You don't know how to bake."

"I've learned."

"This I must witness. Come, Claudette, I'll drive you over. Just tell me how to get there."

"Carlynda."

"Pardon?"

They made it to the carriage. "I no longer go by Claudette Bellamont. She is gone. In her place is Carlynda McBeth. And the bakery is not far. Just by the old tailor shop on Mansfield. It's across from the gentlemen's club."

"Mansfield? That is rather close to the roughest part of the city. I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with your bakery being there. Or anywhere near that particular gentlemen's club. It could barely be called a gentlemen's club."

"It was the cheapest real estate I could find, Lucian."

He sighed and nodded. "Alright, then." He turned to his driver to give him their destination before helping her in the carriage and climbing in beside her. "McBeth? Mother's maiden name."

"Yes." Their mother was English. Father met her while visiting London and married her a few months later before bringing her to France.

She settled down on the velvet seats. She hadn't been in anything this fancy since she ran away from home. She had forgotten how comfortable it was.

Lucian suddenly let out a chuckle. She turned to him. "What is so funny?" she asked.

He shook his head and stared at her. "My own little baby sister runs away from home to open a bakery."

She returned the smile. They both knew that wasn't the reason she ran, but it was fun joking about it. "You, my dear brother, will just love my chocolate filled pastry sprinkled with nuts and drizzled with maple syrup. Imported from the Americas."

"Mhm, that does sound good. Despite the three years, you still know me well, but I feel I must relearn everything about you. How did you get access to maple syrup anyway?"

"I know someone who knows someone who knows someone in the import business."

Lucian shook his head in mock disappointment. "My sister has turned into a business woman. No one back home would ever believe it. I'm not sure I believe it!"

She kicked him. "Oh, you."

He lifted his feet out of the way. "Excuse me, enough with the violence already! Running away sure did make you evil." He grinned, showing her he was just teasing.

She laughed before turning back to the window.

"When are you free today?"

She turned back to him and blinked. "Why?" His tone sounded serious, a little ominous and the look on his face suggested the same thing.

"Because we do need to have that talk, Claudette." He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he stared into her eyes. "I need to understand why you just left. That was so unlike you."

"Carlynda," she corrected absentmindedly.

Lucian gave her a look. "In the privacy of this carriage I'm going to call you by your given name, the name I know you by. Now, when are you free to have the discussion?"

She turned away to watch the passing scenery. She knew they needed to talk, but she wasn't sure she was ready too. She heard Lucian sigh and leaned back against his seat. "After work."

"Pardon?"

She turned back to him. "You can come by after work. We can't talk long. I have someplace to be, but I can spare a few." They both knew it would take longer than a few minutes, but she figured she could send a message to the opera house to let Erik know she'd be a little late.

* * *

Unlike the day before yesterday, she was busy at work. Lucian didn't stay long, only long enough to have a pastry, but he promised to come back before closing for their serious discussion. Because of the busyness of her day time seemed to slip by without notice and she didn't get a chance to send a note to the opera house for Erik. Lucian came back minutes before closing and dragged her for a walk in the park.

The sky was growing pink by the time they sat down at a bench. The ground had little patches of snow here and there from the first snow fall of the season. The cool air would explain why they were the only two in the park at that time, giving them the much needed privacy.

Lucian turned to her on the bench and took her glove covered hand. "I've missed you, sister. Our parents told me you ran because you weren't pleased with the man who offered for your hand. I know there must be more to the story. You wouldn't have ran for that reason alone. Tell me, Claudette, what made you run? Who was he? Father nor mother would tell me."

She gently pulled her hand out of his and sat up on the bench, gazing at the little pond by them. "You're right. There is more to the tale. Father told me he agreed to Monsieur L'Angley's offer."

"Luc L'Angley?" Lucian asked sounding alarmed. She nodded and heard him curse under his breath. "He is old enough to be our father." He leaned forward. "What did he do to you? Did he try to kill you, Claudette?"

She shook her head. "No, no, nothing like that. When Father told me I felt…very displeased with it, but I was obedient. I went along with it. Monsieur L'Angley was charming and devilishly handsome for a man of fifty and he is aging very well. I started to doubt the rumors about him. He was kind and very sweet. I fell for his charms, but then he tried to do something and he said something. I went to our parents, but he got to them first. They believed him over me." She turned to face him. "And you, Lucian, you weren't there. I had no one on my side. Despite what I said our father was still going to bind me to him. I couldn't do it. I couldn't let that happen. So, I ran."

He took her hand again. "I am so sorry I wasn't there. I didn't know. I swear to you, I didn't know. I didn't even know father was trying to marry you off until I got home and you weren't there. They didn't even tell me you ran away from home."

"They must have known you would have believed me."

"Over L'Angley? Any day, Claudette. Especially, L'Angley. Our grandmother always told us to stay away from that family. What was father thinking?" Their father's mother, for reasons unknown to them, had always warned them about the "insane" L'Angley family, as she would call them. Apparently, her son didn't listen to his late mother's warning. "Tell me, what did he do? What did he say?"

She shook her head. Not ready to tell him. Lucian could be reckless at times. She didn't know what he would do if he knew. Plus, she simply was not ready to talk about it, even though it happened three years ago. She never had to speak of it since then, since she tried to tell her parents.

"When you are ready, Claudette, tell me, please. It may be important."

"Important? How? It's over," she interrupted.

"I think L'Angley has been following me."

"What?!" She sat up in alarm. Her heart beating in her chest. She felt that fear grip her.

He tightened his hold on her hand. "Calm down. I haven't seen him since I got into Paris. I didn't think much of it. I never knew he was the one who offered for your hand. He would just appear out of nowhere while I was traveling. But he always looked busy when I see him. Talking to someone at a diner or reading the paper in the park. I never thought he was following. I just thought, at the time, that we just happen to be traveling to the same places, just a coincidence."

"There are no such thing as coincidences, Lucian," she snapped as her eyes flickered nervously around the park. "He must be following you to get to me. Oh, why? Why?" She shook her head. "Why? Why does he want me so much, Lucian? I don't understand. Why me?"

He pulled her to his chest and stroke the back of her head. "Shh, shh. I don't understand either." His chin rested on the top of her head.

She buried her head in his chest. "He scares me, Lucian. He scares me," she whispered. She found comfort in his arms. It was familiar to her. It was like she was fifteen again and stubbed her toe on the staircase. Lucian found her crying at the bottom of their staircase and held her just like this, waiting for the pain to go away. He did that every time she felt the need to cry. She lifted her head and gently pushed him away. She was no longer fifteen. She was no longer that girl. And it would take longer than five minutes for the pain to go away. "You have to stop calling me Claudette, Lucian. That isn't my name anymore. I am not that girl anymore. I'm Carlynda McBeth now. A bakery owner. Nothing more, nothing less."

Lucian sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Not calling you Claudette is like not calling you my sister, but you are my sister, you are. We may not have seen each other or spoken in three years, but that doesn't make you less my sister."

"And I'm glad for that, Lucian. Really I am. You have no idea how alone I've felt, but no one knows who I am. Too everyone I know, I'm Carlynda McBeth, bakery owner. I want to keep it that way. I don't want to explain to them. Please. Please call me Carlynda."

Lucian stared at her and she could almost see the little gears in his head working, thinking. He finally nodded. "Fine. For now, at least."

"Thank you," she breathed out. She leaned against his arm, her head on his shoulders. She closed her eyes. "You sure he's following you?" she whispered.

Lucian kissed her head and shook his head. "No. As I said, it didn't even occurred to me until you said he was the one to ask for your hand. Don't go flinching at shadows until I know for sure. Come." He nudge her head with his shoulder before stand. "Let's walk around before my butt freezes to the bench."

She let out a chuckle as she stood. "It's not that cold out, Lucian." She slipped her hand on his arm as they began walking down the path.

"Says the woman who _wasn't_ just in Africa for a few months."

She gasped. "Africa? What were you doing in Africa?"

He shrugged. "Just seeing the sights. But, that's beside the point, compared to Africa, this is freezing."

"Where else have you traveled too?"

"Well, let's see. I've been to Greece…"

They walked, talking about trivial things, for almost an hour before he started to lead her back to his carriage. "It's getting late," her brother said. "Let me take you home."

She suddenly gasped and a hand flew to her month. "Oh no. It's late."

He nodded and looked at her like she was four years old. "Yees," he stretched the word out. "I did just say that." They reached the carriage and he opened the door for her.

"I'm late. I forgot to send the note. Take me to the opera house please. Quickly." She climbed into the carriage as he spoke to his driver.

He climbed in and sat across from her. "May I ask why am I dropping you off at the opera house?" He leaned forward. "For that matter, why were you there this morning?"

"If you must know, I happen to be close friends with the manager _and_ ," she stressed quickly before he could get all older brotherly on her, "I know Meg Giry, one of the dancers. I've lived with her and her mother almost as soon as I got to Paris." She really didn't want to get into a conversation about Erik just yet, if ever.

Lucian nodded, looking a little relieved. "I'm trying to become the patron of the opera house. Perhaps you could put a few good words in for your friend, the manager. How did you meet him anyways?"

She chuckled. "Maybe I will put in a few good words." She ignored his question. Instead, asked one of her own. "How did the meeting go? And why do you want to be the patron?"

He shook his head. "Fine, don't tell me. And what is this, an interview?" he asked with a grin. "The meeting went well, I believe. Though I got the feeling he didn't really like me."

"It isn't you personally, I'm sure. He just doesn't seem to like patrons."

Lucian rolled his eyes. "That's comforting," he said drily. "Anyway, I want to be the patron to do something productive with my life. I got tired of traveling and I decided to live at our family's manor in Paris. I like the theater. You know I do, so I decided to go for it. It's something to do with the loads of money I have."

The carriage pulled to a stop in front of the opera house and Carlynda stepped out onto the street. Lucian stayed inside, but leaned out. "You'll be alright?"

She glanced at the darken structure and nodded. "Yes." She turned back to him. "You won't tell mother or father I'm here, will you?"

He shook his head. "Of course not, Cla…Carlynda. I'll see you…" He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, when I see you."

"If you become the patron, I'll see you often, brother." She smiled before walking up the steps to the theater. It wasn't until she was inside that her brother's carriage pulled away.

* * *

 **Oh no, she forgot to send a note to Erik.**

 **"This could only end in tears." -okay, where's that quote from? Anyone?**

 **Please Review!**


	8. First Fight

**Chapter 8**

The office was empty when she entered. She was surprised at finding the door unlocked, but hadn't thought too much of it. "Erik? I'm sorry I'm late." There was no response. "Erik?" She took off her cloak and, after much hand waving, located the coat rack. She held her hands out as she carefully stepped towards the other side of the room. She was looking for the desk to navigate to the bedroom door, sure Erik had gone to bed.

After much searching and having her hip bruise itself against the edge of the desk, Carlynda finally located the bedroom door. She opened it and slowly made her way to the bed. "Erik?" she whispered. "You awake?" She found the bed and pat at the mattress, trying to locate him, but the bed was empty. "Erik?" she said louder. Where was he?

She reached for the lamp on the nightstand and lit it. The room was soon visible and there was no Erik. Confused, but not worried, she decided to change into her nightgown. He must be making some rounds around the theater. She would just go to bed and wait for him.

Just as she pulled her nightgown on, she heard the office door slam shut, startling her. She stepped out of the room and saw, with the lamp behind her, a tall dark figure standing there. "Erik?"

"So, the mademoiselle decided to grace me with her presence after all," he said coldly.

A shiver went down her spin at his tone. "I'm sorry I'm late. Something came up…"

"Something came up, did it? At the bakery? How quaint. When I went there it was dark and closed up for the night. That must have been hours ago."

Her eyes widened and her hand went to the doorframe to support her. "You…you went to the bakery? Why?"

"Why?" he said calmly, too calmly. "Why she asks?!" he suddenly shouted, causing her to jump. "I suppose Erik should tell you why, shouldn't he! After all, what do you think he would do when she doesn't show up!? Do you really think he would just wait here!? No, no he went to find her! Why? Why you ask?" He took a few threatening steps forward. She squeezed the doorframe, trying to not to step back, away from him. She never feared Erik. She knew he would never hurt her, but she had never seen him in this mood, not towards her and it did frighten her. "Why do you think!?" he continued to yell. "You and I both know the streets at night! Anything could have happened!"

"Erik, I'm sorry, but…"

"Sorry, you say. Sorry!? After discovering you weren't at the bakery, I looked in every alley between there and the theater, fearing the worst! When I didn't see you there, I went to Madame Giry's. And what do you know, you weren't there either! What do you think I did after that, hmm?" He stepped forward again until the desk stopped him. "I'll tell you where I went. I looked and looked and looked! I found myself at the park, thinking someone dragged you there. Do you know what I discovered?"

"Oh," she gasped, realizing just who he saw there.

"Yes, oh," he sneered. "There you were in the arms of another man, completely unharmed and worry free. Moving up in the world, aren't you, my dear? Had your fill of the lowlifes and now scoring some handsome, wealthy fop. What did you have a mind, hmm? A mistress, perhaps? Or are you trying to find some rich and handsome husband?"

"Erik, it's not like…"

"Not like that? Is that what you were going to say? Maybe I would have believed you if I didn't see him kiss your forehead. There was certainly affection there, my dear. How long have you had him? Is he better than me? Do you like that you can screw him with the lights on? Is that why you ran into his arms? Is that why you were trying to talk me into allowing this man to be my patron, so you can be closer to him? Does he know about me? Does he know he isn't the only one? How many men do you have hidden away?"

She stepped forward desperately. "No, Erik, listen…"

"Listen!? Why? So you can lie to my face!"

She gasped. "Don't accuse me of lying! When have I ever lied to you? If you would just listen."

"Get out."

"Pardon?"

"I said, get out! Leave before I do something I'll regret later."

Hurt, she quickly crossed the room, accidentally knocking a chair over in her blind haste. She grabbed her cloak and opened the door. Before she stepped out, she faced him. "Just so you know, that man you saw me with is a brother I haven't seen in three years." She turned and slammed the door shut. She leaned against the door and a few tears escaped her eyes. She could taste them dripping to her lips. Her skin felt dry because of the salty tears. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to prevent more water from leaving her eyes, but it was useless. The bottom of her gut felt ready to explode. Explode into what, she didn't know. But it felt like it was ready for some sort of outburst. She placed a hand on over her heart, as if it would ease the pain. The tips of her fingers brushed the necklace Erik had given to her only yesterday. That was when she broke down. More tears escaped, followed by a heartbreaking sound. Her hand flew to her mouth, trying to muffle the sound of her crying. Yesterday was so enjoyable. It was strange how things change so suddenly.

She cried for a minute before pulling herself together. She couldn't stay there.

She wiped her tears and threw on her cloak for warmth. She was in her nightgown and it was much too late for her to go wondering around Paris. She made her way to the dormitories. She would sleep with Meg tonight. With a hand on the wall to guide her, she made her way down the corridor.

She snuck into the dorm room and went straight to the bed in the corner, knowing it was Meg's. She knelt down. "Meg?" she whispered. Her voice sounded hoarse from crying. "Meg?" She reached up and searched for a shoulder.

"Car—Carlynda?" Meg whispered sleepily. She heard the bed squeak as Meg shifted. "Carlynda, what are you doing here?"

"I…I was wondering if I could sleep here just for tonight."

"Have you been crying? Did you get in a fight with him?"

She nodded as a few more tears escape. "Some…something like that. It's too late to walk home and…and I'm still in my nightgown."

"Oh, of course. Come in." She heard Meg slide back in her bed.

Carlynda got into the bed beside her friend. It was a tight fit, but not unbearable.

"You know," Meg whispered sleepily, "if I was more awake, I would question you."

"I know," she said softly.

"So, expect…" Meg yawned. "…expect me to ask tomorrow."

"I know."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight." It took her some time to fall asleep.

* * *

She felt something on her temple softly, barely touching her, but enough to brush aside her hair that was tickling her nose. "Carlynda?" A voice broke through her fogged mind. She groaned and buried her head into the lumpy pillow. "Carlynda."

She forced her eyes opened and saw a dark figure kneeling in front of her. She made some sort of moan sound before closing her eyes again. Sleep was calling her back, but the voice interrupted the call. "Carlynda, my dear, wake up, please."

Her eyes flickered opened again. "Er—Erik?"

"Yes, my dear, it's me. I…I wanted to say sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you. I was just…just worried when you didn't show up and when I saw that you were fine, that you didn't seem aware of what I've been through when I thought that you…that you were…were hurt…or worse." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. I…I care for you and…I just don't want to see you hurt. I don't want to repeat the mistakes of the past."

Carlynda sleepily nodded as her eyes slid closed again. She could hear his voice, but couldn't seem to listen to his words. "Hmm, mhm." She felt a cool hand stroke her cheek, but it wasn't enough to wake her.

"You worried me again tonight. After I sent you out, I…I realized what I done. I heard you crying and it dug into my heart. Then, I heard nothing. You had left. I thought you were going back home. You don't have any idea how I felt when I was once again out on the streets looking for you, fearing the worse all over again. Oh, Carlynda." Something warm kissed her forehead. "I'm so glad I found you safe," the voice whispered into her ear. "Forgive me, please."

Without opening her eyes or lifting her head, she nodded.

"Come back to bed with me please. I don't think I can sleep without you by my side."

"Awigh," she murmured drowsily, her 'alright' coming out incoherently. The fogginess of sleep continue to try and claim her and she was weak to its hold. She lost herself in her dream. She was floating or flying. All around her she could smell sandalwood and ink. Suddenly she was landing on a cloud, soft and fluffy cloud. It embraced her, like a lovers hug. She snuggled into the warmth. A wisp of the cloud stroke her check and it seemed to speak to her, saying, "Goodnight, my dear." Then music, deep loving music danced in the air above her. It was a simple, wordless tune that gently pulled her deeper into sleep.

* * *

Carlynda woke to the sound of the bed creaking as someone moved. The room was still dark, making her believe it was still very early. She groaned and buried her head into the pillow. Why was Meg getting up so early anyway? She froze, her mind becoming very aware of the softness and the familiar scent of the pillow below her.

Her eyes opened and she turned to her back. With the little light coming through the curtains, she could see a shadowy figure sitting at the edge of the bed with his back to her. She knew the person was a male from the broad shoulders and it could be only one person. "How did I get here?" she asked.

He turned slightly to her, but didn't face her. "I carried you."

She sighed and stared at the darkness above her. "That explains the dream," she muttered to herself. "But why, Erik?"

"You don't remember last night?"

"I remember you yelling at me and sending me away. I remember you accusing me of sleeping with my brother. I remember going to Meg to sleep with her." She had a faint recognition of Erik talking to her, but couldn't remember any of the details. However, she could be safe to assume that it wasn't a dream.

He sighed. "I woke you last night and asked for your forgiveness. I thought you granted it. You didn't seem to mind when I carried you back to bed."

She sat and settled against the headboard. "Of course I didn't mind. I was half asleep!"

"So you do remember." He turned to finally face her and she wished she could see his expression for his tone sounded indifferent.

"Not everything," she admitted. "I remember you, but I don't remember what you said."

"Then allow me to repeat myself, Carlynda."

It was almost like a question. He was wondering if she would let him apologize again. She glanced down at her lap. She didn't want to forgive him so quickly, but, at the same time, she didn't want to stay mad at him. This was their first fight. She should be lenient with him on that alone, shouldn't she? And maybe he did have a good accuse for his harsh words last night. She nodded. "Yes, please do."

He placed his one leg on the bed as if to settle comfortably for a long speech. "I am sorry, Carlynda. I didn't mean to accuse you. When you didn't show up last night, I grew worried. I was in quite the state when I searched the streets for you. You weren't at your bakery or at Madame Giry's. I couldn't think where else you would be. I kept thinking of one bad scenario after another. My panic was building. Then I saw that you were unharmed and with another man." He stopped suddenly, unable or unwilling to voice his feelings.

"You were hurt," she stated. His lack of response was enough to confirm her thoughts. "And for that, I am sorry. I wanted to send a letter to tell you, but I was so busy yesterday and then Lucian came by so we can talk. I didn't mean to worry you, Erik, but you had no right to accuse me of being with another man. I am not your fiancée or your wife. You're not even my suitor. You have no right over me, mind, body, or soul." She sighed and glanced back down at her lap. "Will I sleep around with other men? No. I wouldn't. The mere fact that, for a second, you thought I was capable of lying with another is…well, it hurts. I'm done with that life, Erik. You know that, at least you should by now. Those three nights were one of the worst of my life. I would never do something like that again."

At some point during her speech, he had turned his back to her again, so she watched his shoulders. The silence between them seem to stretch. Carlynda waited for him to say something, anything, but he didn't. She sighed and looked to the window. She could still see the faint outline of light through the curtains. "What time is it?"

"A little before seven."

She nodded and pushed back the covers. "I should get ready for work." She stood up.

"Speaking of," Erik interrupted calmly, "you may be getting people coming into your bakery looking for a job."

She paused in her attempt to put her robe over her nightgown. "Pardon?"

"It appeared in yesterday's evening paper. I had it arranged yesterday morning." He stood. "I'll leave you to get ready now." He left before she could get over her shock. Not once did he glance back at her.

She sat back down on the bed. Erik really was a great man. So thoughtful and kind to her. Surely they could get over their little argument from last night. She'd seen him in this mood before and he was never so remorseful towards the person he was frustrated at. The fact that he was apologetic towards her said how much he valued her friendship. She really hoped this wouldn't ruin what they had together. Should she even return tonight or was it time to give themselves a little space?

Carlynda shook herself from her thoughts and stood. She had to get ready for work. Today she was determined to open on time. Yesterday she was late, the day before that she didn't open at all. It really was becoming a bad habit.

* * *

She left the room as soon as she was ready, pausing at the doorway when she caught sight of Erik at his desk, back once again to her. She closed the door, leaving it open a crack for a little extra light. She hesitated, wondering if she should tell him not to expect her tonight and wondering if she wanted to tell him that. She hadn't exactly made the decision just yet.

"Your brother," Erik said, unknowingly preventing her from making the decision right then. He had yet to turn to her.

"What about him?" She walked over to him carefully, trying not to run unto anything. He had a lamp, dimly lit, at the far end of his desk. It didn't cast enough light to make out his face. He was leaning back against his chair, away from the light.

"He is a count. Count Bellamont. That would make you…"

"Countess Bellamont," she finished. She sighed and closed her eyes. She didn't want to deal with this right now, not on top of their unresolved fight from last night. "Is that a problem?"

It took him much too long to answer, making her feel rather uneased. Finally, he shook his head and said, "No." His tone wasn't all that encouraging. "If I didn't stumble on the two of you and if it wasn't for our…our fight last night, would you have told me about him?"

"Erik, how could you think that I wouldn't have? Of course, I…" She stopped herself from saying anything more. The truth was, she didn't know if she would have. The circumstance forced her to say something, but would she have told Erik if it wasn't for what happened last night? For the past three years she never once spoke of her family situation, not to the Giry family, not to Erik. She wanted to leave that part of her in the past, but this was Lucian. She loved her older brother. She wasn't ashamed of him as she was about the rest of her past.

Erik picked up on her hesitation and took it as a no she wouldn't have said anything. "Have a nice day at work, Carlynda. I'll see you tonight."

Her month opened, as if to tell him not to, but she forced it closed. "Good day, Erik," she said softly before making her way slowly to the door. If she decided not to show up tonight, she would send a note. She would this time. It didn't matter how busy she was today. She would make sure he knew she wouldn't be coming.

* * *

 **michellecarriveau got it right! the quote from the last chapter was said by the little, white bat from Anastassia, Bartok! Great movie. One of my favorite animated movies.**

 **Please Review!**


	9. First Appearence

**Previously on Improbable Dreams: Carlynda's brother makes an appearance. Erik and Carlynda had their first fight when he jumps to the conclusion she is sleeping around. He finds out Carlynda is a countess. Erik apologize for the fight, but the air seems tense between them still.**

 **Chapter 9**

She didn't know. How did she not know? Erik gripped his quill tightly as the same few thoughts floated around in his head. After making his rounds around the opera house, trying to still his troubled mind, he found himself right back to where he started, his desk with a quill stationed in his hand. He dropped the quill, not minding the ink stain on the note he was trying to write to his maestro, M. de Lair. Somehow Carlynda never figured out how he felt towards her. She didn't know that he loved her and she, apparently, didn't return the feeling. After everything he did to try and show her, she didn't know. To her this was still just an arrangement to feel less alone at night. He was suddenly glad she didn't pick up on his feelings towards her. If she didn't love him in return, he didn't think he wanted her to know how he felt.

" _I am not your fiancée or your wife. You're not even my suitor. You have no right over me, mind, body, or soul."_

It wasn't as if he wanted to own her, but it did hurt that she didn't see him as something more than a friend. No right. But didn't he have the right to be concern, worried when she failed to meet him in his office?

He shook his head and picked up his quill again. He had to stop this. Fretting about it would not solve anything. He turned his attention back to the letter.

 _Tell_ _Pierre-Louis Lefèvre in the trombone section to do his job or I shall_ personally _fire him. The chorus girls are not there for his pleasure. They have a job to do and so does he. For that matter, tell those chorus girls to do their part and not flutter their eyelashes at the men in the orchestra pit._

He wrote before his mind started to wonder again. Would Carlynda ever love him? Was it even possible for someone to love someone like him? He was beginning to think not.

He threw his quill down on his desk and rubbed the side of his face without the mask. What was he expecting? Fate to show kindness to him now that he turned over a new leaf? What he was doing now wouldn't erase what he did in the past. Karma was getting its laugh over his misfortune again. He loved someone who didn't return his love. Why did he start to believe his dream to come true? That he found a woman who would love him despite everything? Was he destined to forever love without having love in return?

She was still hiding something, like the reason she ran away from home. It obviously wasn't because of her brother. They seemed to get along pretty well from what he had seen last night. Was it her parents or a man? Maybe another family member? He wished she would trust him enough to say something. He stopped himself from thinking too much of that. It wasn't like he was so forthcoming to his dreadful past. Surely she wasn't on the run from the law. He couldn't picture her doing anything illegal.

A knock on his door disrupted his thoughts. He stood, closed the window curtains on his side of the room and went to the wall. He pulled back a lever that unlocked the door before sitting back down. "Enter."

The door opened and Count Bellamont walked in with his cane in one hand and a white bag in another. Erik inwardly sighed. He hadn't been expecting the man and he really didn't want to deal with Carlynda's brother at the moment, the indirect cause of the fight last night. "Monsieur Geroux," the man greeted as he closed the door behind him.

"Count Bellamont," he greeted back. "If you're looking for your sister, I believe she is at her bakery." He eyed the man. The count was aggravated about something. His jaw tense, his eyes alert. His hand was tight around his cane.

"I know. I just came from there." His tone was short and to the point.

Did Carlynda tell him about their fight? One thing he didn't need to deal with when he was chasing Christine was family interference. He really wasn't looking forward to experiencing it.

"She asked me to drop this off to you." He held up the white bag. "And this note." He put his cane in between his arm and his side as his hand search his coat pockets, finally pulling out a folded up note.

"Is everything alright, Count Bellamont?"

The count grinded his teeth with impatience. It was not the best show for someone who wanted to become his patron. "Yes," he said with a bit of a bite. He let out a sigh to calm himself. "If you can just tell me where to put these, I'll be on my way. I need to get back to…I need to go."

"There's a stand by the door."

The count turned around and saw the coat hanger on one side of the door and the wooden stand on the other. He placed the objects down before giving a faint goodbye nod and leaving the room quickly.

As soon as the door was closed behind him, Erik pulled the lever to lock it and went straight for the package. Inside the bag was a few pastries. His lips twitched, taking the sight of the pastries as a hopeful sign. She must not be too angry with him anymore. He reached in, picked up a rather powdery pastry, and took a bite. It was good. Delicious even. She really was a talented baker. His lips twitched. Never did he think he would fall in love with a baker. A singer, a dancer, a musician, perhaps, but he never thought he would fall for a baker. He set the pastry down and picked up the note. His last name was written on the top. He unfolded it.

 _Dear Erik_ , it read.

 _You may not believe me and I understand that, but this has nothing to do with what happened last night. I would admit I had thought about it, but I decided not to go through with it. Things changed though. I just wanted you to know that I will not be coming tonight. Once again this has nothing to do with last night. I will be spending the night at my brother's manor. Everything is fine between us. I'll see you tomorrow night._

 _Carlynda_

Erik didn't know how to feel. She had every right to see her brother, but he wanted her here with him. Carlynda assured him it wasn't about last night, but why else would she not come?

He glanced back at the letter and narrowed his eyes at her handwriting. It did not look as smooth and graceful as it usual was, but shaky. She wrote this in haste…he blinked…or fear. Her hand must have been shaking when she was writing this. But why? The image of Count Bellamont's tense form enter his mind. Something was going on with the Bellamonts.

He folded the note and placed it in a pocket before grabbing his cloak from the hanger. He would just make sure Carlynda was alright and safe.

* * *

The manor was just as Carlynda remembered it. Just a mile away from Paris, huge and spacious. The red brick residence contained fine terra-cotta ornaments in stylized leaf shapes. It was also distinguished by its conical roofed tower with fish-scale slate shingles, which extended from the second level to the attic, and by cut-brick chimneys. Large, white columns at the front entrance, sash windows. There was a bay window where the library was located on the first floor. The turrets and rounded porch give the manor an almost castle-like look.

The double doors opened as Lucian led her up the porch. A maid with oddly red curls, which was pulled back into a bun the best it could, curtsied to them when they entered. "Margot, can you ready the room across from mine for our guest?" her brother said to the maid as he handed her Carlynda's and his cloak.

"'es, mon'sir," she responded in some heavy accent before disappearing up the large stoned steps.

"It looks the same as when father had it built," she noted, looking at the alabaster walls decked out with landscape paintings, a random mirror, a plotted plant, and a stand or two.

Lucian stood next to her and nodded. "I haven't been here long enough to make any changes. What it needs is a woman's touch, wouldn't you say?" He grinned at her.

She let out a chuckle and shook her head. "Then marry, my dear brother, for I am not living here with you. Besides, I don't want to be here when mother and father visit."

He shook his head. "If they ever visit. They both seem quite content in Yorkshire."

"Yorkshire? As in England? Why in all creations are they there?"

"One of mother's many siblings past away and they went to visit her family and never came back. That was last year. I can't say I'm complaining." They chuckled before Lucian went to glance out the door window.

She frowned. "Were we followed?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. Are you sure it was him, Claudette?"

She hugged herself, as if that would protect her from the memory. "He looked straight at me, Lucian. It may have been a spit second, but I know I saw him. I know it was him. I know he was there. I know he saw me. He recognized me."

"Alright, alright." Lucian took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Calm down. It's alright, Claudette. He won't get you here. I promise." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. She buried her face in his chest, trying to calm her racing heart and shaky nerves.

"Maybe I would have been safer at the opera house," she mumbled.

"If he followed you, he would know where you go after work. At least, here, I know who to look for and why. Until you are ready to tell your friends, I don't see how you could be safe there. They don't know to watch out for him." It was the argument he gave when he visited her at the bakery and saw how jumpy she was. That was right after she got a glimpse of M. L'Angley watching her through the bakery window. He was standing across the street, by the doorway of a gentlemen's club, smoking a cigar. She knew it was him. It was his lean, but strong form, long wavy greying-brown hair tied back. He was watching her with his penetrating blue eyes. She swore she saw him smirk when he caught her looking at him. Then a carriage passed and he was suddenly gone, but he had done his job of frightening her.

She pulled back slightly. "I know. You're right, but Erik, he wouldn't let anything happen to me. He may not understand it, but he would keep me safe. He knows every nook and cranny of the opera house. He's helped rebuild it with his own hands."

"Erik? Is that the manager of the opera house? Just how close are you two?"

She gave him an annoyed look. "Focus, Lucian. That's not the point and he's just a close friend, one who I care for and who cares for me, as a friend."

"Right, sorry for my older brotherly moment, but the opera house is a public place. Someone like Luc L'Angley might not stand out. Here, he would."

She shook her head. "You're wrong. He would stand out. Erik has this uncanny ability to know everyone who enters his domain. Had he saw M. L'Angley there, he would find it suspicious and investigate. If he didn't like the reason he's there, he would throw him out."

"Throw him out? Is that all this Erik would do? Because I doubt L'Angley would stay away just because he was thrown out."

"You don't know Erik like I do, Lucian. Erik is a worldly man. He never talks about his past, but I get the sense that he is a survivor." She thought back on his temper and that night he rescued her. "He is a powerful adversary and an equally powerful friend. There is something about him that seems almost mystic." She once again thought back to the whispers she heard that night. She had yet to ask Erik about it. Maybe a part of her was afraid to find out that they were real. She didn't understand how he could have done those whispers.

"Mystic, Claudette? Get your head out of the clouds. He is still just a man."

She raised her brow and folded her arms. She glanced at him up and down before flashing him a look. "So are you."

"I am, but I'm one man with a whole bunch of footmen and a butler who retired from the British navy several years ago. And you said so yourself, if M. Geroux saw L'Angley at his opera house, he would investigate. Do you want him to find out everything you've been trying to keep hidden?"

They stared at each other, almost challengingly.

" 'xuse me, mon'sir. Thee room 's ready." The lean, redheaded maid stood at the bottom of the steps.

"Thank you, Margot." He turned to his sister. "Everything will be fine," he whispered.

She eyed the maid and whispered back, "Shouldn't she be calling you 'my lord'?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "First time a maid and, you know me, I'm not picky." He turned back to the maid. "Why don't you show our guest her rooms?" He turned back to her. "I'll make sure my footmen know to keep an eye out for Luc L'Angley."

* * *

The room was just as beautiful and richly decorated as the rest of the manor. Large four post bed with velvet pink and white sheets. A dark pink rug over a light brown woodened floor. A fireplace with a white mantel. White walls with paintings of pink flowers and a pinkish sunset. The double doors and the sash window had light pink curtains. It was a very bright and girlish room, one she loved when she was here last, but grimaced at now.

She untied her bonnet and set it down on the pinkish vanity. "I had really poor tastes," she said to herself as she looked inside the washroom and noted the pink bathtub and white counters with a pink wash pail. She shook her head and went to her old armoire, hoping she left some clothes here that would still fit.

Well, she did leave some clothes at least. Carlynda pulled out a fancy pink ruffled dress and frowned. Was she ever so young? She placed it back in the armoire and looked through the rest of the bright and overdressed gowns. "No, no, and defiantly not." She could see why she left these dresses behind.

She had nothing to wear. Besides, they didn't look like they would fit her anymore. The last time she was here was almost ten years ago. She'd gotten a little bit fuller in some areas. She shook her head and glanced down at the dress she was wearing. It was a brown dress, the hem was frayed and she had drops frosting on her sleeve. However, it shall have to do for dinner. Her brother won't mind.

* * *

He didn't even seem to notice as they talked over bowls of soup during dinner. She leaned over once the footmen took her empty bowl and plate. "What did you tell the staff about me? Do they know? Do you have any of the family staff here?" she asked quietly once they were alone.

He chuckled at her many questions. "Don't get so paranoid, sister. They know. I had to tell them the truth. I rather they know the truth then believe you're my special friend."

She nodded slowly. He had a point even though she didn't particularly like it. However, the less people who knew the better and now a whole household knew. It made her a little uncomfortable and it seemed wrong. A household full of strangers knew, yet her friends didn't. "Yes, I don't like the idea of people think we are together that way."

He chuckled again. "More proof of your difference. Three years ago you wouldn't know what 'special friend' meant. I actually did use that on you once or twice."

She narrowed her eyes at him as she leaned back in her chair. She was trying to remember what he was talking about. Her eyes suddenly widened. "My word, that blond haired, brown eyed singer from London. You called her your special friend. Oh, Lucian, I didn't need to know about your conquests."

He laughed. "She wasn't my special friend, Claudette. I only told you that to see if you knew what I meant. I have better morals then that."

She laughed. "So, you're telling me you're a thirty-four year old virgin?"

He gaped at her, making her laugh harder. He stood back. "I am not having this conversation with my sister!" He made a move to leave the dining room when he suddenly turned back to her. "Wait a minute. Are you still a…you know?" He had that gleam in his eye that told her that she better have her maidenhood intact.

She stood up and stretched. "You're right. I'm not going to have this conversation with my brother."

"My lord, you're not, are you? Did L'Angley…?"

"No!" she quickly said. "No, he never…no." She turned to leave the dining room.

"Claudette…" Lucian called after her, but she ignored him. "Claudette!"

She stopped at the doorway and turned. "Do you know where I can find a nightgown that isn't one of my old ones from ten years ago?"

"Wh…what?" he stuttered at the sudden change of conversation. His mind was obviously still on what she accidentally revealed.

"I thought not. I'll just wear one of my old ones I suppose." She left the room while he was still trying to process what she said.

* * *

Erik quietly hopped off the windowsill and closed the window to stop the cold air from coming in. It was dark. The only light came from the stars and moon outside, but it was just enough for him to see. She was tossing and turning in her sleep from some nightmare. He watched her in concern as she made a whimpering sound. He stepped up to the bed and knelt before it, his hands reaching to stroke her hair from her sweaty forehead. "Carlynda," he whispered. "Carlynda, it's just a dream. Wake up, love. Wake up."

"No, no…" she grumbled as she thrashed away from him.

"Carlynda," he said as loud as he dared. He reached up and touched her cheek.

She jerked away quite suddenly. Her eyes were unfocused, still lost in her dream as she darted away from him fearfully. She coiled up in a ball on the other side of the bed.

"Carlynda, it's alright. It's just me. It's Erik." He moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He lowered his voice to a more hypnotic pitch, trying to calm her. "It's Erik."

Tears escaped her eyes and the faint sight of them almost broke him. She hiccupped. "E—Erik?" Her voice was small, like that of a child reaching out for comfort and afraid it wasn't there, so hopeful.

"Yes, my dear."

She flung herself at him and he quickly wrapped his arms around her, placing her on his lap. She buried her head between his neck and shoulder. He could feel her body shaking and the wetness of her tears. He held tightly to her, kissing the top of her head. She'd been crying way to often lately. What he wouldn't do to make sure she never cried again. "I'm here, Carlynda. Everything will be alright. I'm here." He continued to whisper nonsense words into her ear, trying to comfort her.

Finally her tears subsided and he felt her body relax against him. It was quite the feeling, having her ease alongside him. It was a sign of trust that he never experienced freely before she walked into his life. The only time he felt it was when he hypnotized Christine, but this, what Carlynda gave him, was not forced or coerced. She willingly gave him her trust. It was almost as good as having her love. He didn't want to do anything to break her trust of him. Maybe that was the main reason why he would never tell her who he was and what he had done in the past.

She lifted her head from his chest, wiping away her tears. "Erik?" Her voice was a little hoarse from her crying. She coughed to clear her throat. "What…what are you doing here? How did you know where I was?" she whispered.

He cupped her cheeks with his glove-covered hand and stroke it with his thumb. She laid her head back on his chest, over the beat of his heart. He kissed the top of her head. "Your brother looked anxious when he delivered your gift and letter. I knew something was wrong, but I wasn't too worried until I saw your note. Your handwriting was shaky. You were afraid." He rest his chin on her head. "I had to make sure you were safe."

"How did you find me?" She spoke softly against his chest and he could hear the exhaustion in her tone. He knew he was not going to get any answers tonight. She needed her sleep.

"Your brother is a count. It didn't take long to find his home." He kissed her head again. "Is everything alright?"

She nodded and hummed sleepily. "It is now."

His lips twitched. Not only did she trust him, but she felt safe with him. That was quite a feeling to have. He couldn't remember the last person who felt safe with him. He didn't think there was anyone.

He frowned. "Carlynda, about last night…"

"Shh," she interrupted, "It's alright, Erik. We both were in the wrong. You shouldn't have yelled or accused me and I should have let you know I'll be late."

He nodded before taking a note of her yawn. He shifted to place her back on her pillow. "I'm glad to see you safe. Goodnight, Carlynda." He made a move to get up, but she quickly grabbed his hand. He glanced back at her in question.

"Stay, Erik, please. I don't want to sleep alone. I don't want the nightmares to come back."

"Gladly, my dear." She had him wrapped around her finger. How could he ever deny such a request from her?

She moved away to give him room. After stripping of his shoes, cloak, shirt, and pants, leaving only his long drawers, he slid under the covers with her. As soon as he was settled, she immediately coiled up beside him, her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. He reached up and grasped her hand, holding her there, where she belonged. This was where he belonged as well, with her.

"Erik?"

"Hm?"

"I'm glad you came."

"So am I. Sleep now, my dear."

"Goodnight." She fell quickly to sleep, her dreams peaceful now.

By the first light of day, Erik was gone. The only sign he had been there was the indent of his head on the pillow.

* * *

 **Sorry it took soooooo long! I'm in my last year of college. Loads of essays and big assignments. I have no idea how long it will take me to update again.**

 **Please Review.**


	10. The Illness

**Chapter 10**

Carlynda supervised her three new employees as they learned to close up the bakery for the night. It was their first day and, although there were a few mistakes, overall they did very well. It did help that she was in a great mood today, despite yesterday's fear. Today she was able to hire two more people. She hoped that by the end of the week all her new employees would be able to handle things on their own. She would be able to start taking more days off. It was very exciting.

"Mad'moislle McBeth? 'S there anythin' else need cleanin'?"

She turned around to face the older women, Giselle Barnette. She used to cook for some aristocratic family before they turned her out for a younger cook. Giselle was a wonderful baker and Carlynda felt lucky to have her. "Giselle, I told you do call me Carlynda." She glanced around the space she was assigned to clean. "And no. This all looks good. The last thing we need to do is lock up."

Gabrielle Barnette, Giselle's young daughter, came up beside them. She wasn't what the norm would call a beauty, with her eyes too small and nose a little too big, but there was a certain charm about her. Maybe it was her bright smile and optimistic attitude or her childlike innocence. Whatever it was, Carlynda wasn't the only one to notice it. Her last hired employee, Henri Fonville, couldn't seem to take his eyes off of her. Henri was one of those huge men who wouldn't hurt a bug, gentle and innocent in his own way. He was a slow learner, but once he got something down, it was the best of the lot. He was able to do the baking and cleaning. The only thing he couldn't do was deal with the customers. Gabrielle took care of that part most of the time. All and all, Carlynda was proud of the three new workers.

"Successful day, no?" Gabrielle asked.

"Very successful," Carlynda agreed.

The bell above the door jingled and everyone turned to face their guest. Her brother took off his hat and gave them all a charming grin. "Sorry to interrupt. You almost done?"

Carlynda nodded at the question that was directed at her before turning back to her employees. "You all can go home now. I'll finish locking up."

Once everyone had gone, she turned to her brother with a look. "I don't want to know what they think of me now. A nobleman coming to see me—that will cause rumors."

Lucian shrugged his shoulders, looking unconcerned. "It might until you tell them the truth, or at least tell them I'm your brother. Anyhow, are you ready to go?"

She put her coat on and nodded. "I am if you're taking me to the opera house."

"Claudette," he started to protest as they walked outside.

She locked the door behind them and said, "I didn't see him today. I must have been mistaken yesterday."

"Or he could be biding his time. Maybe you just didn't see him watching you today."

She shook her head as she tied her bonnet. "No. If he was here, he would have made sure I saw him."

"I would feel more comfortable if you return home with me, sister." He nudged her towards his waiting carriage, but she stepped away from him.

"Don't take offense, Lucian, but I would feel more comfortable at the opera house."

Lucian leaned against the side of his carriage and shook his head. "There is something going on between you and Monsieur Geroux, isn't there?"

She glanced away. She could no longer hide the fact from him. His question had been more of a statement. "Lucian, you must understand that I am no longer the girl you remember. I am my own person now. I make my own decisions and mistakes. I know how to choose my own path. You nor our parents can protect me or shelter me anymore. With that said, yes, I am in a relationship with Monsieur Geroux and no it is not a proper relationship," she said delicately.

Lucian's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed as he glared at the direction of the opera house.

"It was my decision, Lucian," she snapped, pulling his attention back to her. "Don't do anything reckless and do not confront Monsieur Geroux about it, brother. I wanted this. I needed this."

"He ruined you!"

She marched up to him and slapped him across the cheek before she could stop herself. His head went to the side and his month opened in surprise. Self-conscious of her own actions, she glanced up and down the streets for any witnesses and was glad to see no strangers in sight. Her bakery wasn't on the most popular of streets. It was located at the edge of the bad side of Paris. The gentlemen's club across the street was the cheapest one in the city, making it the most desolate as most the wealthy gentlemen want to flaunt their money with the most expensive. The shops around her were mostly at the edge of going out of business or they don't stay open as late as the shops in the main section of Paris.

Her brother's driver and footman was glancing politely in another direction. She turned her attention back to her brother, who was rubbing his cheek. She glared at him. "Don't speak of what you don't know. He didn't ruin me. He saved me."

He dropped his hand to his side. "He saved you? So, is this some sort of payment? A reward?"

She knew she couldn't blame him for his words. He didn't know what she had done before meeting Erik, but it still hurt, having that reminder. "I will never sell my body, Lucian!" she said forcefully. "I'm not doing it as payment for saving me. As I said, I need this as much as he does. I may not love him. He may not love me, but we are there for each other. We find comfort in each other. It's not something you'll understand. It is our own business. Don't you dare ruin it for me."

Lucian was clearly not happy, but what older sibling would be? His jaw remained tight as his eyes still had that flare of anger. He turned to address his driver. "Percival, take us to the opera house instead." His driver nodded his understanding as the footman opened the carriage door for them.

Lucian helped her in, his hand holding hers a little too tightly. As she was settling in her seat, he climbed in. He sat across from her and sighed. "I am not happy with this…" He paused, took a breath, and began again. "I'm not happy with your relationship with Monsieur Geroux, Claudette. I'm not."

"Of course you're not, Lucian," she said softly, understanding his struggle to accept. To him, she was still his innocent baby sister. He remembered her during a time of naïve-ness. It must have been like she changed overnight to him. "But I am happy with it. He makes me happy." Her heart fluttered in her chest as she realized just how happy Erik made her. She didn't understand the warm feeling in her bosom, but it felt marvelous. The way Erik treated her as an equal, his quiet support, his warm affection, his gentleness—he was wonderful to her. He comfort her and was always willing to help. He worried about her and cared for her. She felt safe with him.

"I see." Lucian's voice pulled her attention back to him. He was eyeing her strangely, as if discovering an answer to a puzzle. He appeared more relaxed as he leaned back in his seat, his eyes still fixed on her. "I see," he repeated softly, almost to himself. He turned and glanced out the window.

No more words were said until they reached the opera house and said their goodbyes. She didn't ask him what he interpreted from her last spoken sentences, but whatever it was, it seemed to have calmed him.

* * *

Carlynda entered the office after knocking and receiving an 'enter' from Erik. She closed the door behind her and took off her cloak. She didn't look at Erik until she had her cloak on the coatrack. She wasn't surprised that she could only see his shadowy figure standing by his desk.

"Carlynda, I didn't expect you tonight."

She grasped her hands in front of her, wondering if she made a mistake in coming. "Should I have gone with my brother? I had thought, after last night…" She pushed back a little strand of hair that loosened from her bun.

"No, no, of course. I just thought you'd want to be with him for the same reason you were there last night."

She caught the subtle question in his tone, but spoke as if she didn't hear it. "I find it rather difficult to sleep alone now. I hope you don't mind, Erik."

"I don't. And the fight we had…?"

"I put it behind me, if you did. May I come…?" She reached into the dark and stepped forward before Erik could say otherwise.

Erik's familiar cool hand took hers and lead her back to his desk. She sat down at her normal spot by his side. "I wanted to thank you."

"Whatever for, my dear?" He sat down at his desk, turning his chair to face her better.

"For coming last night. You didn't have to and I didn't expect you to."

"I had to make sure you were safe."

"That is the thing, Erik. You didn't have to, but you did anyway. Thank you."

"I couldn't not see if you were alright, Carlynda."

She let out a soft chuckle. "Will you just take my gratitude, Erik?"

He shifted in his seat. "You are welcome," he said softly. He sighed. "Speaking of last night, if you don't mind, I have to ask…"

She frowned and shook her head. "Please don't."

He leaned forward in his seat, his elbows on his knees. "Carlynda, something frightened you enough to run to your brother. Who was it?"

She sat up, her eyes wide and her heart hammering just a tad bit harder. "What makes you think it was someone?"

"Was it the same person you've been running from for the past three years? The person that caused you to run from home?"

"Stop!" she snapped. "I can't." She began shaking her head. "Please, Erik. I don't want to talk about it. I can't. I just can't. I'm sorry."

"Why don't you trust me?"

Her shaking hands went to her face and brushed back the tears that escaped. "I trust you, Erik. I do, but, I just can't."

"Does your brother know?"

"Why can't you stop asking? Please, Erik."

"Does he know?" he pressed.

She shook her head. "Not everything. Please, stop," she whimpered, hiding her face with her hands. "I don't want to talk about this." How much longer could she keep Erik, her best friend, in the dark?

She felt his cool hands engulf hers and pulled them from her face. "I'm sorry, Carlynda, to press you so, but I am concern for your safety. You've been running from this for three years, but it is catching up to you. Let me help you."

She shook her head. "Please, Erik. I just want to forget," she whispered.

"I understand your desire to forget, but your past is right behind you. Whatever or whoever you are running from won't let you forget so easily. Tell me." His voice was gentle, but it didn't calm her.

She glanced at his face, searching fruitlessly for his eyes. "Please, Erik," she begged. "Not now."

"Carlynda…"

She felt something explode inside her as she tried to keep him from asking. "Will you be so able to open up about your past? You are not so willing, are you? Why must I tell you when you never say anything about yourself? You know more about me, then I know about you. You have no right to press me. No right at all." She felt him more then saw him withdraw. She refused to feel guilty for her words, but she was sorry for her tone. She could have been more delicate.

There was a moment of silence where she waited for him to say or do something. She glanced down when he didn't say anything.

"Unlike my past, Carlynda," he finally said, "yours is catching up to the present. Mine, as of yet, is still in the past. I can't protect or even help you until you tell me what is going on." He sighed. "Just promise me one thing." His tone changed, becoming gentler.

"Yes?" she questioned softly.

"If the person or persons you are running from appears again, threatens you in anyway, physically or mentally, you tell me everything. Promise, Carlynda."

"Will you help me forget about it tonight, Erik?"

There was a brief pause as his hands tightened around hers. "Yes."

She nodded and let out a breath of relief. "I promise."

He stood up, pulling her to her feet as well. Standing over her, his hands still around hers and at their chest, he bent his head down until his forehead almost touched hers. His breath came out even and warm against her lips. Her heart fluttered in her chest and her cheeks grew warm. "I just want to keep you safe, Carlynda." His thumb caressed the back of her hand, causing a warm tingle.

"I know," she whispered. "I appreciate it, really, but I'm not ready."

"You may not have a choice."

She hesitated before nodding disgruntledly. "I know." And she did know. Monsieur L'Angley wouldn't wait for her to get ready. For some reason he was determined to have her and he could only be so patient.

"Come, my dear." He let go of one of her hands to caress her cheek. "Let's get to bed. I'll help you forget for tonight." He stepped back.

"Thank you, Erik."

Without another word, he led her to the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind them.

* * *

She woke to a turning, twisting feeling in her stomach and a lump in her throat. She could taste something acidy in her mouth that made her even more nauseous. She groaned and rolled over to her side.

"Carlynda?" Erik whispered, as if unsure if she was awake.

She sat up, but felt a wave of dizziness at her motion. "Bucket, Erik." She leaned back on the headboard.

"Pardon?" He sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I'm going to be sick. Bucket," she moaned. She leaned over the side of the bed as she retched, luckily nothing came out, but the feeling remained.

The wash pail from the washroom was placed in front of her just as she retched again, this time the acidy, burning sensation of vomit passed through her throat and out her mouth. Her body shook.

It took a moment to realize Erik was holding her hair back from her face and was whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She was breathing deeply, but the nauseous feeling was slowly leaving her. She spat into the bucket, trying to get the taste out. "Wa—water, please."

Erik tenderly kissed her temple. "I'll be right back. The bucket is on the floor, right next to you, if you need it again."

She nodded and leaned her head back with her eyes closed.

She was almost asleep when Erik came back. She felt the bed dip as he sat at the edge, close to her. She opened her eyes but couldn't see in the darkness. All she saw was his dark figure beside her. The gas lamp in the washroom was lit, but the door was only opened a crack, letting very little light into the room.

Erik took her hand and wrapped it around the cool glass of the cup. She took a sip, swished it around in her mouth, before leaning to the side of the bed and spitting it out into the bucket. She did this several times, trying to get the taste out. Once the cup was empty she leaned back again and let out a shaky sigh.

"Here," Erik said softly.

Something wet and cool touched her forehead. It was only then that she realized she was sweating. "Thank you, Erik," she said meekly.

"How are you feeling?" He patted her forehead with the cool cloth.

"Better. It must have been something I ate. What time is it?"

"Four."

"Four?" She reached out and touched his sleeve. She could feel the thick fabric of his jacket. "You're already dressed." She let go of his sleeve. "Do you usually get up this early?"

"Yes. I like to do what I can when everyone is still abed. I rarely sleep more than three hours a night."

Her eyes widened in shock. "Surely that isn't healthy."

"Let's not worry about my health right now and focus on yours. When was the last time you ate?"

She sighed. "Lunch." She hadn't eaten dinner since her birthday and that was the first time in months. Coming straight here from the bakery had put a stop to eating dinner and Erik didn't seem to eat much. Now that she thought about it she never actually saw him eat before.

"What did you have?"

"I ate at a diner on Rue Majeur and had an herb roasted chicken. It was quite good," she fibbed. It wasn't too bad, really, but it was not made as she was accustom to. It was a little undercooked and the herbs was missing a spice or two that she liked. She didn't complain, of course. She realized that the dish was usually a more expensive one. The fact that she found it cheap at a diner told her it wouldn't be like what she was familiar with. She was pretty sure that was the cause of her sudden sickness this morning.

"And this was at eleven yesterday?"

"Yes."

"Hmm," he hummed in thought.

"Erik?" she questioned when he didn't say anything.

"I don't know what caused your sickness, but I would feel better if you didn't go to work today."

"Erik, I am feeling much better now. I'm going."

"Carlynda…"

"Erik," she protested.

She heard him sigh. "Alright, but, if you regurgitate more of your stomach contents, you will not be going."

Touched by his concern, if not a little annoyed as well, for it was a little pointless as she was feeling much better, she nodded. "That sounds fair. Now, go along then, Erik. Don't let me keep you from your job."

"No, I'll stay here to keep in eye." He reached back up and patted her warm forehead with the cloth again. "Go back to sleep." He shifted and stood. "I'll clean your bucket," he said with a hint of disgust.

She couldn't blame him. It was not a job she would jump to do either. If he was willing to clean it, she was not going to complain. "Thank you." She settled back down on her pillow and watched his shadowy form disappeared into the washroom.

She snuggled into her covers and closed her eyes. She could hear the water running and the swish, swish of it as he washed down the contents of the bucket and cleaned it. She was still amazed that Erik had the money to install the new invention of indoor plumbing. The only other place she saw indoor plumbing was her brother's home and that was because the manor was built fifteen years ago. Although, her parents manor in Brittany surely had it by now. She knew her father was working on funding the installation of indoor plumbing by the time she ran away.

As she was sleepily pondering this, she heard the door creak open as Erik stepped out with the freshly clean bucket. She heard the plonk as he set it down on the floor beside her, then the rustle of fabric. She opened her eyes and watched Erik take off what must have been his jacket, setting it on the chair at the vanity. She closed her eyes, but the dip of the bed beside her made her open them again. She turned to her other side to see Erik sitting there, back against the headboard.

"What are you doing?"

"I told you, I'm staying to keep an eye on you."

"Erik, you mustn't. I'm feeling quite well, truly. I don't want to keep you."

"I'm staying."

"What will you do while you wait? You'll get bored sitting in the dark."

"Sleep, my dear. Don't worry about me."

"And you shouldn't worry about me. I am better now. Whatever it was has left my system."

"Sleep."

"Erik…"

Suddenly, before she could protest again, he began to hum a soft, gentle tune. She froze as the lovely melody filled the air. It was low and oh so beautiful. It made her eyes heavy as she listened. There was something about it that made her heart warm. She never heard Erik sing a single note, despite knowing, from Madame Giry, that he was quite the singer. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. Her eyelids shut on their own accord. She laid there listening to the music as she slipped peacefully into her dreams.

* * *

 **The Holiday Break gave me time to write! Hooray for that!**

 **But I don't know when I'll be able to update again. School really got me busy last semester and this next semester promises to be harder.**

 **Please Review!**


	11. Night Intrusion

**Chapter 11**

Carlynda did end up going to work, much to both of their relief, that following day. Whatever caused her to be sick so early this morning was no longer present. She was glad, for she needed to watch over her new employees for another day or two before she could even start to consider taking a day or two off coming to the bakery.

There were seven of them now all together. It made business much more enjoyable when she was able to talk to others as she worked. The four other employees were just as well with their jobs as the first three. Monsieur Marcus de Dome got along really well with Henri and helped him with the heavier duties, like restocking. Madame Amee Locke worked great with the customers, just like Gabrielle. She always had a bright smile and seemed to really enjoy her job. Madame Lyla Boise was a bit of a loner, but she was just as brilliant of a baker as herself, Henri, and Giselle. Monsieur Alezan Basque didn't bake, but he had quite the eye for organization and the mind for finance. Carlynda was proud of her employees and thought they would all work well together. The men didn't seem all that discouraged to have a female as their employer and the ladies were excited to be earning their own living.

Several days passed with no other hint of her sickness. Erik and Carlynda decided it was because of what she ate the day before. Erik never wanted her to eat that that same diner again, but she was able to convince him such a demand was unreasonable. It almost led them to their second big fight when Carlynda accused him of being too controlling and demanding. Luckily, instead of yelling back at her, he relented, but he did manage to get a promise that she wouldn't order the herb roasted chicken from there ever again. It was a promise she was all too willing to give.

After the end of the week, Carlynda decided her employees were ready to work on their own, but that didn't mean she would never show up and do some of the work.

"Your usual today, Monsieur Manier?" she asked the aging groundkeeper.

The man nodded. "Yes, that would be swell." He was pulling out his money as he said, "I see you gathered some helpers."

She chuckled and nodded as she glanced behind her. Through the door of the kitchen area, she could see Madame Locke putting some pastries on a pan in the back room to be ready for a display. Madame Boise was out of sight, but she could hear the fires of the oven. "Yes," she said as she turned back to M. Manier. "They are a good crew." She took the money from him and handed him the white bag with his usual order.

"That's good, mademoiselle. You could use more time for yourself."

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, that is the idea. _Au revoir_ , monsieur." He tipped his hat to her as he left the bakery.

Her smile widened when she saw the next person come in. "Meg!"

The young blonde came up to the counter and smiled. "Nice to see you too, Carlynda."

"What are you doing here? Don't you have rehearsals?"

She shook her head. "No, not right now. I haven't seen you in a few days, so I thought I'll come by to say hello." She leaned over the counter and smiled. "Hello."

Carlynda gave her an apologetic look. "Sorry, I was busy training the new employees and…"

"And Monsieur Geroux wanted all of your attention," Meg interrupted with a sly gleam in her eye.

"Meg!" she gasped, her face turning red.

The blonde giggled and shook her head. "Don't play innocent with me, soon-to-be Madame Geroux."

Carlynda frowned. "What on earth's creation are you talking about? Erik and I…we aren't…"

Meg threw her a look. "At this rate, it's bound to happen."

The older woman relaxed and shook her head. "It's not like that, Meg." What she knew of the dancer was that she was a bit of a romantic. Bound to happen, indeed. In Meg's world, love was the center of everything. Carlynda no longer saw the world like that, but it just made her like her friend all the more. She hoped Meg wouldn't get so effected from the world like she was.

"Well, not right now, but give it time. I'm sure…"

Everything else that Meg was saying was lost on Carlynda as soon as she glanced out the window of the bakery. Her smile slipped and she froze. Across the street, through the fluffy snow coming down, she saw the familiar penetrating eyes of M. L'Angley. He was leaning against the door of the gentlemen's club again, holding a cigar. He wasn't wearing a coat, despite the chilly weather.

"Carlynda? Carlynda."

She snapped her eyes to Meg. The dancer's eyes were drawn in concern. They searched her eyes as if trying to find the answer to her state. Her lips were slightly parted, like she was trying to think of something to say. "I'm sorry, Meg, you were saying."

"Forget what I was saying. Are you alright? It's as if you saw a ghost."

Carlynda glanced back out the window and her heart stopped when M. L'Angley tilted his hat to her, a cool smile forming around his cigar. She quickly glanced back at Meg and nodded. "Yes, yes, of course. Everything is fine. Just got one of those chills, you know." She was suddenly feeling quite nauseous again and it wasn't because of bad food. His mere presence was making her feel a little ill. Her stomach turned and she snapped her mouth shut, trying not to puke. Behind her, she could hear M. Basque flirting with Madame Boise, laughter from Madame Locke, Madame Barnette, and Gabrielle, and the clinging of pots as Henri and M. de Dome worked on the dishes. Her stomach calmed at the reminder of people. She was very glad she had hired them because their quiet chatter in the back gave her comfort. M. L'Angley wouldn't dare do anything with so many people present.

"Carlynda?" Meg whispered worriedly. Her blue eyes were big and bright with concern.

Before Carlynda could speak, the door opened, letting in a breeze of cold air before it closed again. She glanced around Meg as the blonde turned to see the new arrival. It was Lucian. Had she been in the right mind she would have questioned why he was early. He came almost every night before closing to drive her to the opera house.

He stomped his boots on the ground, trying to take the snow off as he took his hat off. He glanced up and gave them a charming smile. The smile quickly disappeared after one look at his sister. "Claudette, what happened?" He rushed over and stood beside Meg, seemingly not seeing the blonde.

"Claudette?" Meg whispered to herself.

Carlynda's eyes flickered back to the window. Taking the hint, both, Meg and Lucian, turned. The door of the gentlemen's club was closing behind a retreating back.

"I don't understand," Meg said.

"Was that…?" Lucian questioned as he faced her again.

She nodded.

Lucian body stiffen and his hand tightened over his cane. There was murder in his eyes. Knowing exactly what was going through his mind, Carlynda reached across the counter and grabbed his arm. "Lucian, don't! Don't be rash."

"I'm not going to do anything, but talk to him."

She tightened her grip on his forearm. "That may be your intent, but it will turn violent. Don't make things worse."

He grinded his teeth and turned his back to the door. His shoulders were tense, but she knew he wouldn't go, so she let go of his arm.

"What is going on?" Meg asked, eyeing both of them. "Carlynda?"

"Meg, this is my brother, Lucian. Lucian, my friend, Meg."

They exchanged tense pleasantries before Lucian turned back to her. "You're coming back to the manor with me."

"Lucian…"

"For my sake, please. I need to see that you are safe. I cannot just trust you with a man I barely know." Even though, Erik finally accepted Lucian as his patron, her brother dealt mainly with M. Bernard. He hadn't seen Erik since the patron interview.

She nodded. "I'll be right back." She went into the back to a little desk in the corner to write Erik a note. Her employees didn't seem to realize anything was amiss. She sat down, ignoring her workers as they chattered together, and wrote a note to Erik.

She heard the front door open and close and she tensed up. Lucian didn't…he wouldn't…She hoped he didn't just leave while her back was turn to "talk" to M. L'Angley.

To her relief she saw Gabrielle leave the back room. A customer then. She sighed in relief and picked up her quill, dipped it into the ink, and started writing as carefully as she could, trying her hardest not to have shaky handwriting.

 _Erik,_

 _I'm staying at my brother's manor tonight._

She paused. She didn't want to tell him the real reason because then he would press her for information she still wasn't ready to give. But lying to him? Was that what she had to do? She promised she would tell him everything if L'Angley threatened her in any way, but, really, he hadn't, so she wasn't breaking her word, was she?

 _Don't worry. It's not about_ that. _Lucian wants to me to help with some redecorating. He is hopeless when it comes to the arrangement of a home. He could certainly do with a wife. He is planning on making the manor a home for quite some time and really wants to change it. Trust me, it does need it. My old bedchambers no longer suit me. I will not be at my bakery tomorrow. I am trusting my employees to carry on without me now. This way I can spend all day ordering my brother and countless others about. That does sound splendid._

Would he get suspicious if she invited him to come to her bedchambers tonight? He might see that as proof that she wasn't feeling safe or well.

With a heavy heart she wrote:

 _I'll see you tomorrow night. Promise._

 _Carlynda_

She folded the note and entered the front room again. She gave it to Meg. "Will you please see that Erik get this?"

She nodded. "Of course, but, Carlynda, what is going on?"

"Please, Meg, don't ask questions. I'll tell you someday, just not today. Please."

Meg took one look at her and her brother before nodding. "Alright. I'll do it now." She left the bakery. If only Erik was so easily persuaded to drop a topic.

"I told Erik that I will help you redecorate your home tomorrow. That is exactly what I plan on doing." Would it be less of a lie if she did what she told Erik she would do?

Lucian grimaced, but nodded. "If you wish. It does need to be done, I suppose." He glanced around the shop. "Do you have the morning paper?"

She shook her head. "No, why?"

Lucian took a step back. "It would just give me something to do while I wait for you to finish." He sat down on one of the chairs that lined the front of the bakery. They were set there for those waiting for their order or if they wanted to eat their pastry before leaving.

"Pardon?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't seriously think I'm going to leave when he is right across the street, do you? I am staying right here." He rested one foot over the thigh of the other and placed his arms on the back to the chairs beside him, as if to proof he wasn't about to go anywhere.

"Oh, Lucian."

"Don't try to persuade me otherwise, Claudette. You've been missing for three years. I'm not about to lose you again to a possibly insane murderer. Indulge me."

"Fine." She stepped from behind the counter and stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. "But I cannot have you sitting here until closing. You'll grow quite bored."

He eyed her suspiciously. "Then get me something to read."

She shook her head and grinned. "No, I have something better in mind."

"Something tells me I'm not going to like this."

"You, dear brother of mine, are going to work."

His eyebrows shot up. "Me? Work? Preposterous! Mother and Father taught me better than that," he said with fake arrogance.

"Come on." She grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.

"But in all seriousness, Claudette, I've never worked a day in my life. I'm rubbish at it really," he protested as she pushed him behind the counter and towards the back room.

"Good," she said, patting his arm. She grinned up at him. "This would be a learning experience. And call me Carlynda." Just before they entered the room, she couldn't help but glance back at the window with a nervous frown. He wasn't there, but she knew he was in the building and that didn't make her feel any better.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and glanced up when they entered. She could feel Lucian's body tense up awkwardly at the stares.

"Hello, everyone, this is my brother, Lucian. He's never worked in a bakery before and would like to try it out. Lucian, this is everybody." She didn't need all seven of them there, but this was the last training day and thought it would do them good to have a day working all together. It gave them a chance to talk and get to know each other.

Lucian gave them a jerky wave. "Hello."

She chuckled at his nervousness. This was going to be entertaining to watch.

* * *

That night, she was still laughing over all of her brother's mistakes and mishaps. The many times he dropped something, spilled something, mixed the wrong ingredients, and slipped over things helped ease her worried heart. He had to ask someone almost every time if this or that bottle was the right ingredient. He didn't even know what flour looked like. She found it all too amusing. She had refused to help him at all, allowing him to make mistakes, only to laugh at him for it. The only thing she didn't have him do was dealing with customers. Although, with the rate he was going, she might have had more customers. For who could resist an entertaining show of an aristocrat trying to bake?

"Well, I'm glad you found all that entertaining, sister," Lucian said as he walked her to her bedchambers. He had changed his clothes and cleaned the best he could as soon as he got home, but he still had specks of flour in his hair and blue frosting on his ear. It had amused her throughout their whole dinner.

She laughed and leaned into his arm. "It was very, very entertaining." They stopped at her door and she turned to him. "You still have flour in your hair," she said before entering her room. She chuckled when she heard Lucian curse.

She turned on few of the gas lamps and dressed for bed. She frowned when she saw her overly pink and white bed. Would she be able to get a restful night's sleep without someone beside her? Would Erik come?

She peaked out her curtains and into the grassy fields, but didn't see any dark, shadowy figures. No Erik.

Sighing in disappointment, Carlynda got into bed, readying herself for a restless night.

* * *

She didn't know what woke her. Maybe it was the horrible nightmare or the sound of the floor board creaking in the hall. Why someone was up this late, she didn't know. Perhaps it wasn't as late as she thought it was.

She stared up in the darkness, tired, but unable to sleep. Flashes of her nightmare came to her each time she closed her eyes. The faces of the men who used her, M. L'Angley, her father yelling at her for _her_ improper behavior, the night M. L'Angley tried to…She sighed and rolled over, reaching for the lamp by her bed.

There was a soft knock on her door. Confused, she sat up and stared until another knock. "Coming," she called out softly.

Carlynda threw her robe on as she walked across the cold floor to the door. She creaked it open and blinked at the candle light that was suddenly in her eyes.

"'xuse me, mad'selle." It was the maid, Margot, in her nightgown and a cup of tea. Though, she had to wonder why the maid was in this part of the manor. "I saw thee 'ight, mad'selle. Everythin' alright?"

She opened the door wider and nodded. "Yes, Margot. Thank you. I'm just having trouble sleeping."

"Same 'ere, mad'selle." She held up the cup. "Tea? Helps one sleep."

Carlynda shook her head and gave the maid a fond smile. "Thank you, but I can't take your tea. You brewed that for yourself."

"Aye, mad'selle, and I can brew another. Take."

"If you insist." The maid nodded, allowing Carlynda to take the offer tea cup and saucer. "Thank you, Margot." She took a sip. "Umm, this is good, but…" She took another taste. There was something bitter about it, some aftertaste that didn't sit well with her stomach. "What is in this…" Her tongue felt swollen and dry. Why was her mouth dry? She glanced up and the world shifted. The tea cup fell to the floor with a loud crash. Her hands went out, trying to find something to catch her fall. Was she even falling?

Margot's face blurred in and out. Her face…why was Margot crying? She looked scared. Was her eyes wide? Her mouth was moving, but Carlynda couldn't hear any words, just a vibration in her ears. It almost sounded like muffled voices, like someone was trying to talk through a pillow. Two men joined Margot at the door way. Large, brutish-looking men. They were in and out of focus, but they seem to fill the doorway. They entered her room, leaving Margot alone in the hall. Carlynda stumbled backwards, her arms flinging around trying to catch something, anything. They walked towards her.

Her heart was beating so loud. She could hear it. The constant _th-thumb, th-thumb, th-thumb_. It was loud in her ears and it was getting faster. The noise of it…Noise. She needed to make some noise. She needed to wake someone. She needed help. Her brother's room was right across from hers. It shouldn't take a lot to wake him. She opened her mouth to scream, but no noise came out. Her mouth was too dry. Her tongue was not functioning well.

One of the big men grabbed her arm and pulled her forward. The thrust caused her to stumble and fall. The man let go of her arm as she rolled to her back. Her vision blurred some more. It was getting harder and harder to see, but she could see the two blurry faces of the men above her. The man grabbed her arm again and said something.

She kicked her feet and it got caught on something. Her nightstand. She kicked hard just as the other man grabbed her other arm to help his comrade in hosting her up.

 _Crash_

Her nightstand hit the ground, loudly. The book that was sitting there and the vase of flowers crashed to the floor as well.

The last thing Carlynda was aware of was the sound of her own heartbeat over the yelling of a man. Her last thought: where was Erik?

* * *

 **Yay! An update! Finally.  
**


	12. In Love

**Chapter 12**

The sound of a grunt beside her woke her the next morning. That was followed quickly by the creaking of wood. Her head was pounding. She groaned and opened her eyes. Her brother was trying to sleep rather uncomfortably on a wooden chair by her bed. His hair was sticking up all over and his robes were winkled. There were dark circles under his eyes. It didn't look like he got much sleep last night.

Last night…

Flashes of last night returned to her and she sat up quickly in bed, jolting her brother awake.

"Claudette, you're awake!"

She turned to face her brother again. "Wha…" She coughed. Her mouth was still dry. She rubbed her aching head. The movement hadn't helped its pounding.

"Here."

Lucian handed over a cup of water that was sitting on her nightstand. She gratefully took several large gulps down until her mouth felt hydrated. She tried speaking again with much better success. "Wha…what happened last night?"

Her brother leaned forward and sighed. "Apparently, the maid, Margot, worked for L'Angley." Her eyes widened. "She reported everything she observed to him and let two of his hired men into the house in attempt to kidnap you. The tea she gave you was drugged with some sleeping mixture."

"How…how did she know I would be awake?"

"Pardon?"

"She already had the tea in hand when I opened my door to her. How did she know?"

"The first night you were here, she noticed you didn't sleep well. She walked pass your door a few times and heard you tossing and turning before going to bed herself. She did the same last night, waiting for a sign that you were awake."

"Which she got when she saw my light coming from the cracks of the door."

Lucian nodded. "I heard a crash and came rushing in. Margot didn't put up too much of a fight. She was blackmailed into doing it. Something about her daughter not belonging to her husband."

Her eyes widened. "Oh."

"Yes. Quite the tale she has. Anyway, it took me and several footmen to tackle the two puppets of L'Angley. They are currently in prison. I'm sure he isn't happy that his plan failed."

"I knew it." She knew she should have gone to the opera house last night. Despite her brother's concerns, she knew Erik would keep her safe. She knew she would have better luck at staying safe at the opera house. For goodness sake, Erik slept right next to her, his bedroom was hidden in the back of his office, and Erik barely slept three hours a night. She would have had more protection there than she ever had at her brother's manor. She knew this. She knew, but she had to indulge her brother. Erik may be one man with no footmen, but that was why he didn't need footmen. He could be dangerous by himself.

She hugged herself and glanced around the room. Nothing looked out of place. They did well with the cleanup, but the atmosphere had changed. No longer did she feel any safety there. She felt chilled despite the flames in the fireplace. Monsieur L'Angley breached those walls, tearing down any protection she would have felt there.

"Knew what?"

She ignored the question and said, "I am not safe here, Lucian. He found a way to get to me here. I must return to the opera house. I know you aren't comfortable with my safety in someone else's hands, but I am safe with him. I trust Erik. That _will_ need to be enough for you. I've lived this long on my own. You don't need to be the one to protect me."

He seemed to perk up at her tone. His eyes narrowed. "It sounds like I have no choice."

"You don't, Lucian. You don't know him like I do."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on her mattress. "But he doesn't know, Claudette. How can he protect you when he doesn't know he needs to?"

She glanced down at her blanket covered lap. "He does know something is wrong ever since the first night I slept here. He just doesn't know what or who or why."

He raised his brow. "Claudette, you've have to start trusting others. If he is going to protect you, he is going to need to know. If I'm going to trust you in his hands, I need to know that he knows. He needs to be prepared."

Her mouth flew open and her breath got caught in her throat for a second. "I trust him!" she finally gasped out.

"You trust him with your body. You trust him with your life, but you don't trust him with yourself. Do you trust anyone with your heart anymore?" His eyes lit up like he just realized something. He sat up slightly, his mouth pulled down into a frown. "What happened to you?"

How did one respond to that question? What could she say?

She said nothing.

* * *

By the end of the day, Carlynda decided that she wouldn't tell Erik what happened last night. If he knew, he wouldn't stop asking for answers and she really wasn't ready to talk about it to him or anyone really. So, when she entered his office after six in the evening, she tried her best to keep a carefree smile on her face, readying herself to tell Erik about redecorating her brother's home. She did managed to redecorate one room, his parlor. Her brother was now waiting on several orders of armchairs, rugs, and curtains for the room.

Erik's head was bent over some papers. The lamp at the corner of his desk was dimly lit. It gave enough light for him to read, but not enough to give her any details of him. She could tell, though, that he had dark hair sleeked back away from his face. He set the papers on the desk and turned off the lamp before glancing up at her. He stood to greet her. "How did you sleep last night, Carlynda?" he asked after he led her to her chair.

She hesitated. "Well, I did get some sleep. So, I suppose you could say I slept well. What about you, Erik? Did you sleep well?"

"I didn't get a lot of sleep, but that is not all that unusual."

She nodded. She wanted to ask why he didn't show up last night, but didn't know how without making her sound desperate or disappointed or clingy. She didn't know how to ask.

"How did the redecorating go?" He leaned back in his chair.

"It went well. I managed to redo his parlor. My parents had horrible tastes. The parlor was all mismatched and very distracting to the eye, and not in a good way. Of course, my tastes weren't all that better. The first room I should have done is my old bedchambers. Maybe next time, if there is a next time. I'm not planning on having a next time, of course, but something needs to be done with all that pink, white, and lace."

"Pink?" She should hear the disbelief in his voice. He may have seen her old room before, but it was dark, making seeing colors rather difficult. "I didn't realize you have a fondness for pink." There was a touch of hidden humor in his tone.

She glared at him, frustrated that he wouldn't be able to see it in the dark. "I don't. Not anymore, at least. But I was quite the girl when I was younger. Everything was very dainty and princess-like."

"Innocent, bright, and pure." Erik muttered the four words wistfully.

She paused and nodded solemnly. "Yes, nothing like how I am now."

"You still seem bright to me, a light in my rather dark world."

She felt her face heat up at the compliment. She didn't know if she was embarrassed or flattered. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

There was a knock on the door. Carlynda eyes narrowed in confusion and fear. No one had ever knocked on his door this late. They've never been interrupted before. L'Angley didn't follow her there, did he? "Were you expecting someone?"

"Not this soon. Why don't you wait for me in the bedroom?"

She nodded gratefully. If it was L'Angley, the less he knew about her and Erik the better.

* * *

Erik's body was tense. It was too soon for Jules to receive word back from his informant. Much too soon. Last night, instead of going to Carlynda, he decided to take this chance to find all he could on the Bellamont family. He couldn't find much on Carlynda, but he did find plenty on Lucian Bellamont. Her brother was a moral standing bachelor, he traveled consistently, was known to be a little reckless when he was younger, and his family was very old and wealthy. Information that didn't help him discover who was after Carlynda. After discovering the Bellamont's place of birth, he sent out word for more information. But, as he said before, it was much too soon for Jules to hear back from the informant.

He waited until he heard the bedroom door click shut before pulling the lever to unlock the door. "Enter," he announced as he sat down at his desk.

The door open and Jules entered, leaving the door open behind him. He was holding tightly to the rim of his hat. His eyes shifted around nervously. "Erik, I'm sorry to interrupt, but Count Bellamont is here to speak to you."

"Is he now? Tell him to come back at a more reasonable hour." It wasn't all that late, only after six thirty, but he usually closed his office to visitors at six in eager anticipation to Carlynda's arrival.

"I told him, but he is most persistent. He says it concerns his sister."

Erik froze before slowly leaning back in his chair. He stared at Jules thoughtfully. "Bring him in." He knew if they kept their voice at normal speaking level and not raise them, Carlynda would not be able to hear anything through the closed door. Erik just hoped she would keep it closed. He felt that she would not be happy about the conversation that was about to happen between him and her brother. And he really hoped her brother didn't come to talk about his relationship with Carlynda. Nothing the man said could stop him from seeing her.

Jules left and Count Bellamont entered seconds later. Jules closed the door behind the count, leaving only the two of them in the room. "What about your sister do you wish to speak to me about, Count Bellamont?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

Bellamont eyes searched the room. "Where is my sister, M. Geroux?"

"I suppose she is getting ready for bed." Erik watched with mild enjoyment as Bellamont's jaw tightened and his hands gripped his cane until they were white. So Carlynda did tell her brother. He was curious if she did. He would have loved to see Bellamont's reaction to hearing that.

"May I sit, monsieur?"

"If you could find the chair, then be my guest."

Bellamont month thinned. "Then I'll stand," he said in almost a growl.

The count's frustration was noted, but Erik didn't care. His lips twitched in amusement, but did his best to sound indifferent. "If you wish. How may I help you then? You said this was about your sister."

"Yes. What I say, I hope, would stay between us. She might not like the fact that I'm here."

"Consider it done," he said without hesitation. If it had anything to do with her safety and protection, Erik was all too willing to go with anything Bellamont said.

"I'm not going to break her trust and tell you everything. I just want you to be aware that there is danger. I would very much prefer her to stay with me, but she is…well, very adamant in her wish to come here."

The man sighed and his tone shifted, sounding more firm. "Listen, Monsieur Geroux, I don't know you. I don't know if I can trust you to keep her safe. She tells me you can, but I don't know that. So I'm asking you. Can I trust you with my sister?"

Erik hesitated. He wanted to say yes. He knew he would never hurt her, that he would protect her, but how could he tell her brother to trust him? After what he done in the past, how could anyone trust him? He suppose the most important question was, what other choice was there?

He leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk. "I am not going to allow anyone to harm her, count. Not even myself." _Never_. "Her safety and happiness is my main concern. Now, tell me, who is after her and why?"

"Forgive me, but how can I know your word to be true. Why don't you come out of the shadow and allow me to look you in the eye? A man can sweeten his voice to say the most convincing of lies, but he can't hide the look of deceit in his eyes."

"I didn't realize you were so poetic, monsieur. You're going to have to trust me."

"How can I?" he snapped, his eyes narrowed in anger. "How can I trust a man of the shadows?"

"Maybe that is why you can trust me."

"What do you mean?"

"I am more dangerous in the shadows. Darkness is an old friend of mine. I can better protect her here, in the shadows, watching unnoticed by others. What better way to find an adversary, then catching them unawares? I would keep her safe in the environment that has kept me safe all these years. She will not come to harm while she is under my watch. Now, tell me, who it is?" he repeated in a low, dangerous tone.

Bellamont's body seemed to relax at his unspoken vow to keep her safe. "His name is Luc L'Angley. His late father was a duke. Why he doesn't have that title no one seems to know. Just watch out for him. He's dangerous. Our grandmother warned us many times to stay away from his family, but our father didn't listen to her. Now, he is after my sister."

"Know thy enemy, but you aren't giving me anything but his name. Who is he, Count Bellamont? What did he do to her?"

He shook his head. "Just watch out for him."

More tightly, he repeated his question. "What did he do to her?"

"I don't know!" Bellamont finally snapped. He took a few deep breaths. "I don't know," he said again with a force calmness. "She won't tell me. All she told me was that he didn't take her virtue, but I don't know if I should believe that or not. Just…just watch out for him, for my sister's sake."

Erik didn't like not knowing how this L'Angley hurt Carlynda, but he was forced to admit her brother didn't know either. He was not going to get much else from him, he was sure. "I'll keep my eyes open."

The man sighed in relief. "Thank you. I'll see myself out." He left the office.

Erik sat there in thought for a long while. Mentally going through everything Bellamont told him and ways to keep Carlynda safe. She must not go back to her bakery. He couldn't protect her there, but he didn't know how to keep her from there without locking her up. He couldn't lock her up. He did something like that before, with Christine. He would not become that man again. The Phantom of the Opera was gone, but if not that, then how?

He shook his head and went to his bedchambers. Carlynda was sitting up in bed, brushing her long, soft dark hair. He loved her hair down, free and wild. There was an intimacy in seeing her hair unbound and in the process of getting brushed. It was a very marriage type of act, and he would like nothing more than to be married to her. She was nibbling on her lower lips as she stared into the darkness. She stopped and glanced in his direction when the door opened.

"Who was it?" she asked, anxiously.

"Pardon?" He closed the door behind him and began the process of taking off his clothes.

"At the door. Who knocked?"

He sat at the vanity's chair to take off his shoes. "It was just Jules."

"Oh." And with that 'oh', her body seemed to relax in relief. She went back to brushing her hair as he shrugged out of his waistcoat. "Is everything alright? It must have been important."

"What someone sees as important, may seem insignificant to another."

She let out a chuckle. "So, it wasn't all that important?"

"I didn't say that."

Pause. "So it was important?"

"What is _your_ definition of important?" He took off his shirt.

"Erik," she complained. "You're sending me in circles."

He chuckled. "It's not something you should be worried about, my dear. It actually didn't have anything to do with the opera house."

"Oh, I see." He heard a cling as she set her brush down on the nightstand.

"What do you see?"

"Since it didn't have anything to do with the opera house, you are frustrated that he bothered you because you don't see that it was important."

He stood up to take off his trousers. He smiled in amusement. "If that is what you wish to believe."

She groaned and flopped down onto her pillow. Her hair he had been admiring flared out around her. So much for her brushing, he thought with a grin. "If you don't wish to tell me, then don't."

"I told you, Jules didn't really have anything to say." Technically, he was being truthful.

He walked to the other side of the bed and climbed in. He settled down on the pillows before pulling her towards him. She snuggled into his embrace, her back against his chest. "Too tired?" she asked.

He shook his head. "You are. You didn't get enough rest last night." He lifted his head to kiss her temple as she held his hand against her chest. "Sleep, my dear." Their legs automatically tangled together under the blankets.

He waited to hear her breathing rate slightly decrease and become regular indicating a deep sleep before snaking his arm out from under her to take off his mask. From the direction they were facing, he was laying uncomfortably on his porcelain mask. He set his mask down at the nightstand on his side of the bed without disturbing her too much before placing his arm back under her. He hugged her to him. It was times like this that he could very easily imagine they were married, when he felt content just lying there holding her. For some reason, this seemed more intimate than their usual nightly activities.

It was a few hours later that he allowed his body to surrender to the touch of sleep.

* * *

The next morning a familiar scene took place. Carlynda's head over a bucket and Erik holding her hair back and patting a cool cloth across her damp forehead. She took the offered glass of water once she was done and swished it around in her mouth and spat it out until it was empty.

Erik took the cup back. "This is the second time in a matter of days."

"It was just something I ate," she said hoarsely.

He leaned forward and set the glass on her nightstand. "I barely believed that was the case the first time, Carlynda. Don't try to blame it on that this time."

"What else could it be?"

"I don't know, but until we figure this out, you aren't going to work."

She sighed at his overprotectiveness. "I'm already feeling better, Erik. I am going to work, for at least a few hours. I don't need to be there all day anymore."

"No."

Carlynda sat up and took his hand. "Erik, we've talked about this. You can't order me around. I am not someone you own. I am not an employee. I am your friend."

"It's not about controlling you, Carlynda. It's about your health. Are you not concern that you've been sick randomly only for a short period of time, twice in a matter of days? It's winter now, my dear. The air is bitter, the streets slippery. Let's not risk this illness getting worst by sending you out there." He stood up, bent over, and picked up the bucket. "Rest. I'll check on you throughout the day." He disappeared into the washroom to clean the bucket.

She laid back down and watched his shadow dance on the only wall of the washrooms she could see. The door was only partially closed, so she couldn't see anything, but the wall.

It was winter, the season of sickness. People get sick the most during this season. It could be the reason she was sick, right? Influenza was a common illness during this time. She knew very, very few things about that ailment. People puked and many people die. Her heart started pounding in her chest as she considered this. What if that was what she had?

Erik returned the bucket to her side of the bed. Before he could straighten back up, she grabbed his wrist. "Erik, can I have influenza?"

He immediately knelt to the ground beside her bed and grabbed her hands. "No, no, you don't have the symptoms for that."

"But…"

"You don't have a fever, muscle aches, cough, congestion, or exhaustion. Despite common beliefs, influenza doesn't cause you to regurgitate your stomach. You aren't going to die. Whatever you have, it doesn't seem life threatening. You may have gastroenteritis, but I don't think that is the case. You don't have diarrhea, cramps, or a fever." He touched her forehead, as if to re-confirm the lack of a warm head. "You're not dehydrated either. Gastroenteritis, as far as I know, doesn't cause death. It's a common misconception. Lately, people are calling the common stomach bug the flu and it's not." He brushed back a strain of hair from her face, his fingers lightly touching her skin, but it was still enough to send thrilling shivers down her spin. "You rest. That's all we can do at this moment." He stood back up. "The bucket is there in case you should need it."

Carlynda nodded. She didn't think she would need it, but she was touched by his thoughtfulness anyway.

Erik left the room, leaving her to her own thoughts. Since it was still early, she tried to get back to sleep. For a few hours, she was in and out, half in a daze. She was only faintly aware of the few times Erik came in to check on her, a brush of his hand on her cheek or forehead, a tune being hummed.

She finally got up around nine, her mind fogged by either lack of sleep or too much sleep, but a warm bath and a fresh change of clothes helped her feel refreshed. She didn't end up needing the bucket again, as she suspected. Eventually, she left the office to see Meg, despite Erik's protest.

She found Meg in her dorm room, packing a bag. Her eyes narrowed in confusion as she slowly walked over. "Meg? What are you doing?" She wasn't leaving the opera house, was she? Erik wouldn't do that.

The young blonde glanced up and gave her a big grinned that eased her worry. "Carlynda! I thought you'd be at work. Didn't you hear?" Meg bounced excitedly. It reminded Carlynda of a child at Christmas time. "I was finally, officially made the prima ballerina! I get my own dressing room and everything now! I'm moving into my new room now."

Carlynda mouth flew open and she let out an excited chuckle. "Meg, that is wonderful! I'm so happy for you. It's about time. Here, let me help you." She picked up one of the full bags.

"Thank you." Meg tied the strings of her other beg and lead Carlynda to the door. "I know. I mean, I understand why I didn't get the position right away. Monsieur Geroux had to test me again, to see if I was still up for the spot and there were others he was looking at. He wants the very best to be prima ballerina. _And_ …," she stressed, nudging Carlynda with her arm, "…he was occupied with other activities."

"Why is it that every conversation I have with you seems to lead to mine and Erik's nightly arrangement?"

"Because I find it so romantic," Meg answered, stopping at a set of double doors. "My new room." She opened it and they entered.

"Oh my, it's grand," Carlynda said, turning around to get a whole view of the beautifully decorated room. The walls were a light shade of blue, the top of the wallpaper had a dark blue vine design going all the way around. The bedspread was made of a soft cloth, softer then the dormitories bedding, and the quilt was a navy blue and the sheet was a sky blue. The pillows were white and fluffy. One of the far walls, in the corner, stood a large golden-rimmed mirror and a bar for Meg to practice her dancing with. There was a nice large, golden vanity, a door to a washroom, two large armoires (one for her every day clothes and another for costumes and dancing uniforms), a beautiful white four-panel dressing screen with light blue flower design all over it, and a light blue tufted settee with golden rims.

"It's not as big and grand as the prima donna, but it really does look beautiful and it suits me well." Meg dropped her bag at the foot of the bed. "I love the blue."

"Yes, it is very lovely. It's like it was made for you." Carlynda followed Meg's example and set the bag she carried next to the other one. "And what Erik and I have is hardly romantic," she said, getting right back to their earlier conversation.

Meg sat on the settee and Carlynda joined her. "Come on, Carlynda, don't think me a fool. I could see how much you are in love with him."

Carlynda shook her head, trying to ignore her heart skipping a beat and her face heating up. She let out a nervous sounding chuckle. "I am not in love with Erik Geroux. I love him as I would love a friend, but I am not _in_ love with him. You have get your head out of the clouds. It's a silly notion."

"Is it?"

The caused her to pause. Was it silly? Of course it was. Carlynda had never seen Erik face to face before. They both were keeping secrets from each other. It was silly. "Yes," she said, but she could feel her voice shaking as if uncertain.

Meg eyed her. "I say the lady protests too much." She stood up. "Anyway, now that I have moved. I have get back to rehearsals. I'll see you later."

Carlynda got up and bid Meg a goodbye before returning to her room…err, Erik's room. She was glad to see Erik wasn't in his office when she walked through it to get to the bedchambers.

She stood by the window and glanced out into the streets. People were walking to and fro, carriages rattled across, horse's neighing, but she wasn't seeing any of it. Her focus was on her conversation with Meg.

Silly it was. She couldn't be in love with Erik. How could someone love a man she had never seen before? She knew nothing about his past, where he came from, who his parents were. But did that even matter? Did one love physical appearance? Did one love what he did in the past?

She laid a hand over her heart. It was pounding wildly in her chest because she knew the answers to those question. It didn't matter what Erik looked like. His background didn't matter. She knew him. She knew he was protective, kind, short-tempered. She knew he would never willingly hurt her. He was her best friend, the one person she knew she could trust. He didn't judge her for her past mistakes. He accepted her, all of her, when he agreed to take her into his bed. He treated her like his equal, discussing things no man would usually talk about with a woman. He was a prefect gentlemen, who didn't bend his beliefs to fit society's norms. He was protective and cared for everyone in his opera house. He could be stern and strict, but that was because he believed those around him could do better. He pushed his employees, but he wasn't unkind. He wanted the best. He…

"Oh my." She turned and leaned her back against the cool glass of the window. Her thoughts had turned from denying she could love Erik to listing the reasons why she…"Oh my," she repeated.

Carlynda slid to the floor in a daze. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't love him. She groaned and laid her forehead on her knees. What would Erik say if he found out? He couldn't. He couldn't know. He couldn't ever find out. The humiliation would be too great. They were just friends and he didn't see her anything more than a friend to comfort him on the coldest of nights. That was their arrangement, just to be there for each other, help each other sleep without nightmares, comfort one another. Nothing about love. Oh, this was a disaster. What if he break her heart? The last man she thought she could love turned out to be insane. This could not be happening.

No matter what she said, no matter the reason it just couldn't be, it didn't change the fact that she was unquestionably in love with Erik Geroux.

* * *

 **Finally updated. A lot of you expected or hoped Erik would save the day. Too bad he was too busy trying to dig up as much as he could on his lady love! She finally figured out that she is in L-O-V-E.**

 **Please Review.**


	13. What is Love?

**Sorry for the long wait. I was not happy with a portion of this chapter and the days slipped away from me, until someone reminded me that I haven't updated in months and months. So, I'm posted this chapter with a warning that my muse is sleeping right now. I will update the next chapter, but it might be awhile.**

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

It was hard to act normal around Erik after realizing she was in love with him. When he came into the room to check on her several hours later, she stuttered over her words and was a bit jumpy, afraid if she looked at him or touched him, he would somehow find out her feelings for him. It made him believe that she was still unwell and basically commanded her to stay in bed. She obeyed without complaint and was sure this only concerned Erik more, but she wasn't in the mood to argue and wanted Erik to leave so she could think.

"I'll be in the office should you have any need of me," Erik had said before leaving her in peace.

Carlynda laid there staring up into the darkness. She still couldn't wrap her mind around her revelation and she didn't know what to do about it, if anything. Should she ignore it for the sake of their friendship? She nodded to herself, liking the idea. That way no one would get hurt. That sounded like a solid plan.

What did she know of love anyway? She once thought she could love M. L'Angley and look how that turned out. Love was a mystery to her. Maybe she didn't love Erik. Maybe what she was feeling was something else. Could it be something besides love?

Meg. She needed to talk to Meg. The ballerina realized Carlynda was in love long before she, herself, knew. If there was any anyone who could help her out with this it was her. Maybe she knew if Erik could possibly return the feelings, if Carlynda could get Meg to speak realistically and not fantasize.

Carlynda got out of bed and entered the office without knocking. She saw a quick glance of something white on Erik's face and his black sleeked-back hair before he quickly turned off the lamp at his desk. She was fully aware of how fast her heart was beating in her chest at the brief sight of him. He made her so nervous now. He held a power over her that no one had in years. It was very frightening. She grasped her hands in front of her to try and hid her shaking hands.

"Carlynda!" he snapped. "I told you to stay in bed."

"I need to…want to speak to Meg. I'm fine, really. I…I just want to speak to her."

She heard the chair creak as he turned it to face her. "Little Giry is still in rehearsals and you, just minutes ago, was acting very strangely. Go back to bed and rest."

"Then, I'll wait outside her room until she's done." She slowly made her way to the light side of the office and to the door.

"You are ignoring the fact that you aren't well."

"I am. I am well. I just need to speak to Meg, woman to woman, if you don't mind." She reached the door and opened it. She turned and searched for Erik's silhouette figure, now standing by his desk. "You say you know everything that goes on in your opera house and you've proven to me several times that seems to be true, but could you please try and not overhear my conversation with Meg? Please." How embarrassing it would be if he eavesdropped on her while she was confessing her love for him. "For me?"

Silence stretched between them and she feared he wouldn't give her his word. She started to panic inside as she realized she would have to take Meg outside and doing that, right now, caused her to fear. What if L'Angley was out there waiting for her? Going to work was one thing, she now had many people working under her and she knew she wouldn't be alone. Going out with Meg seemed to be something different. She would be more vulnerable. He tried to kidnap her once already, just a few nights ago.

"You have my word," Erik finally said, causing her to breathe out in relief.

"Thank you, Erik," she said softly before leaving the office.

* * *

She didn't have to wait too much longer for Meg to finish, only fifteen or so minutes of pacing in front of her new prima ballerina chamber's door. The blonde looked surprised to see her and Carlynda couldn't blame her. They did speak right before Meg scampered off to her rehearsals.

Once they were settled in Meg's new room, sitting on the settee, Carlynda found herself lacking words to speak.

The younger woman turned in her seat to better face her. "Is everything alright, Carlynda? Did something happened since we last spoke? Was it that man you and your brother dislike? Or does it have something to do with Monsieur Geroux?"

Carlynda shrugged and opened her mouth, but the words escaped her. She closed them again and shook her head. "I am finding it rather difficult to talk about it. I was reflecting on your words earlier and I…well, I…" She sighed and leaned forward, her face in her hands and her elbows on her knees. "I don't know what to do with it. I…Should I act like everything is the same? Should I say something to him? How can I? I just…I just don't know. What if he rejects me?"

"It would help if I know what you're talking about."

"I love Erik," she blurted. She sat up and looked at Meg's surprised face. "I'm in love with Erik and I don't know what to do about it. Do I even truly love him or do I just think I do?"

"Until you are able to answer that question, I wouldn't say anything to him just yet," Meg said, finally getting over her shock.

Carlynda nodded. "Good idea, but how I do I know?"

Meg shrugged. "I believe when you know, you'll just know." She got a faraway look on her face, dreamy. "I imagine being in love is like finding your other half. You'll do anything for his or her happiness, make sacrifices you never thought you would ever make." She looked over at Carlynda. "Does he make you feel warm and safe? Love, I believe, is a safety net. It catches you when you are down."

Carlynda smiled. "That is a beautiful image, but I have a past that is soiled and he hasn't told me anything about his own past? How can he know when to catch me?"

"Love doesn't care about your past because it wants to be with you in your future. He doesn't need to know your past in order to catch you. He will because he sees you're falling. He doesn't have to know why you are, just that you are."

"You've grown very wise, Meg, and a little philosophical."

The blonde smiled. "I've thought a lot on this topic and read many novels."

"You sure have." Carlynda frowned. "But what if he doesn't feel the same for me? How do I know if he loves me?" She doubted he did. She couldn't be so lucky.

"Carlynda, when he loves you, he doesn't have to say it. You can tell by the way he treats you. How does he treat you?"

Carlynda paused in thought, mentally thinking of all those times she'd been with Erik. "Well, like an equal and, yet, the most beautiful person ever, but he's always been like that with me. That's just how he is. That tells me nothing. Isn't that the whole purpose of our arrangement, to feel cherished by someone even if it's just for a night?"

Meg shrugged again. "Then you have to wait. Waiting is a sign of true love and patience. Anyone can say I love you, but not everyone can wait and prove it's true. You wait to say anything. Figure out if you truly love him and try to see if he returns the feelings."

"You were waiting for the excuse to use some of those philosophical quotes on me, weren't you?"

Meg shrugged and gave her an innocent smile. "I have more. Lot's more if you're interested."

Carlynda shook her head. "No thank you, Meg."

But Meg continued anyway. "People build up walls…."

"Meg, that's not necessary."

But Meg continued to speak over her. "…not to keep others out, but…"

Carlynda stood up. "Goodbye, Meg." She took a step to the door.

"…to see who cares enough to break them down," the blonde finished. She giggled as Carlynda closed the door.

* * *

"How did your talk with Little Giry go?" Erik asked the moment she reentered his office. She was slightly surprise to see him there. She didn't think he left the office all day. Was he that concern for her? Did it reflect a stronger feeling for her, like love for instance? She mentally shook her head. She couldn't over-analyze everything he said or did to make it fit her deepest wish.

"It was helpful." She twisted her fingers in front of her as she steadily made her way over to the dark side of the room. After months of their arrangement, she was able to make her way to the other side without much, if any, aid. She just had to make sure she moved slowly. She was acutely aware of her heart pounding in her chest. She was able to hear it, could he?

She paused at the desk and searched the darkness for him, trying to see more of him. How much more of him did she need to see to know for sure her feelings weren't going to go away? Her desire to know him seemed to have grown now that she recognized she loved him. She wanted to know everything and help him through his sorrows.

"You've been acting strangely. Is everything well?"

She blinked and nodded. "Yes, Erik. Everything is well. Just…tired, I suppose. I think I'll go lay down again."

"That may be wise," he agreed. "You've been ill. Rest is the best cure for illnesses."

She didn't move. Now that she was aware of her own feelings, she didn't want to part from him. That scared her, but not enough to move her feet. If it was hard just going to the next room, how was she going to handle leaving him forever when he grew tired of her or found someone else to love and cherish? What they had wasn't supposed to be a forever arrangement. It really was frightening to know he had such power over her. Maybe it was best he didn't know he held that power.

"Carlynda? Are you sure you are well?"

"Y—yes. I'm just going to lie down."

"Yes, you do that." He turned away from her.

She didn't move from her spot. She could see his shadowy figure, tall, broad. Physically, all she knew about him was his basic body structure and the fact he had dark hair he often had slicked back, fashionable and very sophisticated, as well as the shape and size of his lips. No, that wasn't true. She knew a lot more about his body, like the many old scars on his back, crisscrossed and poorly healed. She was able to feel them beneath her fingers, the bumps and ridges of the scabs. There was a wound on his side which was circular in shape and rough against her fingertips, as well as one on his thigh, his right arm, and more crisscrossed lines on his chest. There were many nights where she tried to kiss those scars away, trying to ease those past pains.

"Do you need help to find the bedroom door?"

She blinked. "Pardon?" At some point, he had turned his attention back to her.

"Do you need help locating the door?"

She shook her head. "No." She finally pulled away from him and entered the bed chamber.

* * *

He joined her in bed several hours later, still too early to sleep, but she didn't care. Her heart had started beating as soon as the door opened. She stared straight ahead, keeping her back to him and just listening to his movements as he closed the window curtains tighter, to block the slowly lowering sunlight. The bed dipped and she felt her body turn slightly at the weight.

"How are you feeling?" Erik asked as he leaned over her, brushing back her lose hair.

She turned completely on her back and smiled up at his shadowy figure. "I am quite well." The time she spent laying there, helped her pull in some control and accept her love for him. A love, she feared, which forever will remain unspoken and unreciprocated. She would take whatever he was willing to give, for how ever long he was willing to give it.

"I would feel comfortable if you didn't return to work tomorrow. Rest some more."

She reached up and took the hand that was still playing with her hair. She brought the hand down to her chest and hugged it there. "I am well, Erik," she said encouragingly. She squeezed his hand. "I want to go tomorrow." She needed it, a space away from him for a few hours. Time alone to gather her thoughts some more. Figure out what she would do, if anything.

He slipped his hand out from under hers and cupped her check. She leaned into him as his thumb caress her. "I worry about you, Carlynda. You don't seem at all concern about your health."

"You needn't worry, but thank you for your concern. You are a wonderful friend, but I am truly well."

He slowly took his hand from her cheek and sat away from her, his back to her, as if something she said had offended him or hurt him. Analyzing her words, she couldn't find anything to be offensive and assumed she misread his withdrawal.

She sat up and rubbed his tense shoulders before her arms moved down to his chest in a loose hug and she leaned over to place her chin on his shoulder. "How about this?" she said into his ear. "If I don't get ill from now to when I usually leave for work, I go. If I do get ill, then I'll stay here for two days to recover. I'll follow all of your orders without question."

He reached up and grasped her hands at his chest. "If you go to work tomorrow, you are not going alone. Take someone with you. Little Giry or your brother. I don't care, just don't be alone."

She lifted her head. "Why not?" she asked, almost fearfully. He couldn't know about M. L'Angley, right?

"Don't think me a fool, Carlynda. Whoever you are running from is still here. Don't deny it. I know he is. He is here and dangerous. I don't want you going outside these walls without someone with you."

"Erik…"

"Just promise me you'll take someone with you when you go to your bakery or I will have you followed by some contacts of mine. I should do that anyway."

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "I promise, Erik. I'll ask Meg to walk with me. There is no need to have me followed like I'm the king's daughter." It was a good thing Erik didn't know that the man who threatened her attends the gentlemen's club right across the street from her bakery.

His hand tightened briefly before letting go. He turned his body to face her. His motion forced her to slide her arms away from him. She sat back on her heels. "I will be alright, Erik. Promise."

Erik gently lowered her back down to the bed and leaned over her. He kissed her. The kiss started tenderly, but her eager response caused him to deepen it. His hands cupped her cheeks as her arms went around him and pulled him closer. Her eyes fluttered closed, lost in the feel and taste of him. A moan of protest escaped her when he pulled away. That was the first time they kissed since she realized she loved him. It made the kiss seem sweeter, more addicting. It was as if she was putting her feelings into the kiss. How could he not know her feelings after that?

Breathing heavily from the kiss, he managed to say, "I know you are safe, when you're with me, but once you get out of my sight…"

His confession made her heart tremble with excitement. Surely that meant he felt more strongly towards her then mere friendship? No, friends were often time worried about each other as well.

She leaned up and kissed him. "Don't…don't talk now. Just…just kiss me."

He was all too willing to submit.

* * *

Much to Erik's frustration, the next morning Meg came with her as she walked to the bakery. A part of her, the part that wanted to be a coward, wished she did get ill this morning. She didn't want to risk running into L'Angley. She tried to be brave, though. She couldn't leave her employees to be by themselves for too long. It did comfort her that she had Meg with her and was glad Erik made her promise to bring someone along.

"Are you sure this is wise, Carlynda?" Meg asked as they walked together down the busy Friday morning street.

"I have no idea what you mean."

"That man you fear. What if he is at that gentlemen's club?"

The early morning crowd began to thin the closer they walked to the bakery. Not many ventured down this street, so close to the bad side of the city. The less crowds meant Meg pushing up against her and Carlynda couldn't tell who was trying to protect who. "I can't stay hidden forever. I refuse to."

"Did you tell M. Geroux about him yet?"

Carlynda didn't look in her direction, but kept her eyes firmly in front of her. She didn't answer.

Meg let out a groan. "Carlynda, you should. You can't keep this threat a secret. Not from him."

"I know, but…" She paused and turned to Meg, forcing the other girl to stop. "I tell him and he'll lock me up for protection while he takes care of it himself. I don't want blood on his hands, not for the likes of someone like Mons…" She stopped herself before she could let his name slip out. "Erik is a survivor. I don't know what he had to do to survive this far, but I would like to think murder isn't one of them and that is what it will come to if he confronts that man." She turned and continued walking. Meg hurried to catch up. "Besides, this is my problem, not his."

"That is not how relationships work."

By now they had reached the street with her bakery and their voices got quieter as if they feared M. L'Angley would hear them and the crowd thinned to nothing. Their steps quickened, trying to reach the safety of the bakery before he could come out of the gentlemen's club.

"We are not in a typical…" she trailed off as they approached the bakery. From across the street, the door to the gentlemen's club opened and Lucian came storming out. His hands clinching his cane tightly and his eyes narrowed. His whole body was tense.

"Lucian!" Carlynda called out in surprised.

Her brother looked up and his body relaxed when he saw her. He jogged across the street. "My beloved sister," he greeted with his usual easy smile.

She didn't return the sentiment. Instead, she placed her hands on her hips. "Did you just confront him? I told you not to confront him. That would make things worse! Don't tell me you got into a fight."

"It will please you to know that I didn't. But, yes, I went to confront him."

"Lucian!"

"But!" he interrupted before she could rant to him. "But he wasn't even there. He wasn't there yesterday either."

Her ire calmed instantly. "Pardon? He wasn't?"

He shook his head. "And I went with good intentions. I have to leave for a few days and I wasn't comfortable with leaving you here almost defenseless."

"I am not defenseless!"

"Have you told your lover, Claudette? I didn't think so," he said when she failed to respond.

"Ummm," Meg said, interrupting. "I need to head back to the opera house. You'll be alright?" she asked Carlynda.

She nodded distractedly. "Yes and thank you, Meg." She turned back to her brother. "Do you know where he is?" She barely noticed when her blonde friend turned around and headed back to the opera house.

Lucian shook his head. "No." He glanced back at the club and shook his head again. "I don't like not knowing."

Carlynda understood. Not knowing where he was meant he could be anywhere. At the same time, she felt relieved knowing he wasn't right across the street. She could breathe just a little easier. It gave her time to think about Erik and her feelings towards him. She touched her brother's arm to pull his attention back to her. "Where are you going? Is something wrong?"

He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "Someone had been poking around our family estate in Brittany. I have to go to deal with it. You will tell Erik, won't you, Claudette? I don't like leaving you here without protection."

"I have protection, Lucian."

Lucian escorted her to her bakery door. "I meant protection that knows what he is up against. You need to tell him."

She glanced through the bakery window and saw Madame Amee Locke smiling pleasantly at M. Manier, the usual early morning customer, as she handed him his bag of pastries. "I will. Soon." She stared into her brother's intense eyes. "I promise." She knew she could no longer hid her secret from Erik. He was right. Her past was catching up with her. She couldn't hid or run from it. But how and when could she reveal something like this to him? Would he be angry for being kept in the dark for so long? Would he feel betrayed? "When are you leaving for Brittany?"

"I was planning on leaving as soon as I return to the manor. I'll be gone several days to several weeks, Carlynda."

"I'll be fine. Good journey, brother."

Lucian gripped his cane tightly and turned his face away from her. His lips tightened together in some attempt to hold something back. His eyes watched the customers in her bakery through the window.

Carlynda waited for him to speak his mind. When he continued to stare silently ahead, she placed her hand on his forearm. "Lucian, what is it?"

Her brother eyed her, noting the changes the years have brought her. "You promised you'll tell your lover soon, will you make another promise? Will you promise to be here when I get back?"

Carlynda frowned and she closed her eyes, her hand dropping from his arm. She never thought about what running away would do to her brother. Never thought what it would be like for him. At the time, she only thought about herself and getting away.

She opened her eyes. "I am stronger than before, Lucian. I'm a different person. I won't run away again. Not when I have people here that will be willing to help me. I'm tired of running."

His shoulders slouched and the lines on his face faded as he relaxed. "If you need to run somewhere, run home." With that last statement, he turned and walked towards his waiting carriage, swinging his cane as if he didn't have a care in the world.

Run home, but where was home? Carlynda knew her brother was talking about himself and Brittany, but the first place that came to her mind, the first person, was Erik and their little room in the back of his office. It was there that she really, truly started to heal from her trials. She felt safe and protected there. It was more Erik that helped her. That little room with Erik was her home.

* * *

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